Christmas Combined

Christmas is in the air. You can smell it. Snow’s crispness, the burning wood in the fireplace, special cookies and dishes, the woodsy smell of the tree and peppermint all remind me of Christmases past. So many smells that combined mean Christmas. Christmas is inside and out. You can see it. All the lights, red and green packages, wrapping paper, ornaments, reindeer and snowmen decorate houses and stores. So many sights and colors that combined mean Christmas. Christmas is on the table. You can taste it. Fruit cake, gingerbread men and houses, candy canes, plum pudding, ham, and eggnog fill our kitchens and delight all our guests. So many flavors that combined mean Christmas. Christmas fills our ears. You can hear it. Bells, horns, laughter, children’s choirs, carols, and gasps of surprise when the first present is opened echo in every room. So many sounds that combined mean Christmas. Christmas is in our hands. You can touch it. Fuzzy slippers, comfy house coats, warm firesides, mittens, hats, and scarves keep us safe from the cold. So many textures that combined mean Christmas. Christmas is in our hearts. You can feel it. Love, joy, peace, tenderness, and generosity make up the Christmas mood. So many feelings that combined mean Christmas. But what does Christmas mean I ask you, if you combine every aspect? The candles, wreaths, St. Nick, and his sleigh mean nothing. They are only symbols distracting from the true meaning that is Christmas. The Child, the holy Son of God, the baby born of a virgin, the Savior, Emmanuel, Jesus all combined is the meaning of Christmas. The rest only reflects the joy we receive from reveling in the glory of God. All the smells, and colors and tastes, and feelings, and gifts, and carols, and so on mean Christmas, but Christmas means Christ.

Amity

Strangers, wrestling, each with their own pain
Unknowingly, they are quite remarkably the same
Fearing abuses from others, themselves they hide
Needing the one to expose this cruelty to abide
However these were lost, hearts torn from flesh
Seeking to find, and sew back a tight mesh
The lattice once woven and destroyed in an hour
A friendship notwithstanding was turning up sour
Forlorn, forgotten, they traipse through the mire
Seeking and searching, they fuel a great fire
At last, breaking through to grab hold of a strand
Weaving and toiling, with every drop of time’s sand
Constructing and stitching a tapestry of luster
Giving their all, with every fiber they muster
A caring companionship has risen to its peak
Individuals no longer so wretched and weak
Rejoice! Rejoice in what they have found
For you too, may experience the ever sweet sound
Melodious friendship grow into a symphony
Lifting the blinding and bringing epiphany

The Plea for a Soul

Standing there behind the door
So hopeless and helpless
You fall to the floor
Broken and beaten and terribly sore
You’re crying and calling
You want something more

Look upon His face
Give love a chance
Before it’s too late
Before you can’t dance

If you lose your way
Don’t be with fear
Or even a tear
He’ll find you someday
You can’t make it alone
He’s waiting for you
To make you anew
To call you his own

Despondent child
Frightened thing
Gaze on Him
Hear us sing

Love’s enduring promise fulfilled
Can only mean we are His forever more
God pull us to our feet
Piece us back together in you

Perspiration, trickling down your face
Tells me worry has taken its toll
Fear steals your youth
Wretched groveler, open your eyes!

All will be as all should be
When He comes back
When all can see

This perfect plan
He’s laid and portrayed
Will finally be seen
By us and by all

Doubt flies away like the bats of Hell
Chased by the exposing truth of Heaven

When comes the Christ
I’ll open my arms wide
To receive his embrace
The demons will hide

Ashamed and alone

Forgotten, defeated

Abashed and forlorn

One day silenced, the echoing sighs
Every enormity of all empty lies

Oh Prince, my chieftain
Oh ruler of all
Mighty king
Mighty God
Crumble the wall!

This chaotic rhyme you see
Soon, righted it will be

When Hell breaks loose
The fire will rain
Exposing the things
Satan can’t feign
As he tries to fool
And con the insane

The last advice I’ll utter
Is simply, fall into Him
Delve deeply and see
That He’s paid for your sin

This plea for a soul
This request for a spirit
Just listen to Him
He may want you to hear it

A Lullaby

Sweet little baby, where have you gone?
Sweet little Fairy floating along.
To Dreamland to Dreamland,
You’ll fly and you’ll stay.
Sweet little baby,
We’ll watch and we’ll pray.

Moonlight creeps o’er the trees.
Shining its mirrored light, down upon thee.
In Dreamland in Dreamland,
You’ll stay little Fawn.
And don’t fly back to me,
Until night is Dawn.

Sweet little baby, where have you gone?
Sweet little Fairy floating along.
To Dreamland to Dreamland,
You’ll fly and you’ll stay.
Sweet little baby,
We’ll watch and we’ll pray.

A Veil Lifted

At sometimes a spark and at others a blaze
Embers aglow are dispelling the haze
My blindness removed, your beauty revealed
A binding chain, quite strong and quite sealed
A melody sung o’er valley and rise
Reflected by rich, but written by wise
I’m overwhelmed by this feeling within
Swirling around in this vivacious din
More fierce than the wind and stronger still
Surviving and fighting, combining our will
Alighting on clouds we soar through the air
Twirling and dancing with nary a care
Not afraid at all to fall to the ground
You’ll catch me and spin me around and around
Emptiness has long since been rotten
That coldness that shudders is old and forgotten
Acrobatic colors twist and they turn
Exposing our thoughts, helping us learn
We’ll live on for love ever more
Intertwined and connected as one to the core

South Ferry

Crazy chaos
Crazy chaos
Running here
Running there
Noisy streets
Shouting people
Bells and sirens
Ring

Crazy chaos
Crazy chaos
Dashing up
Dashing down
Everything’s a
Busy tizzy
Pigeons all take
Wing

Crazy chaos
Crazy chaos
Pushing to
Pushing fro
Smashing sounds
Flashing lights
Red and yellow
Green

Crazy chaos
Crazy chaos
Walking do
Walking don’t
Smoking trains
Blaring horns
Greatest ever
Seen

The Tree That Hugged the World

Glass bit into flesh but no scream tore from His cracked lips. As the beatings continued the numbing pain was all He could see, smell, taste, hear and feel. Everything else had faded into a surreal world which seemed to exist elsewhere. Finally, they mercilessly stopped there torment for just a moment and then something was shoved down hard onto His head, needles digging hungrily into his temples soaking up more blood than seemed even possible in his entire being. His mind was so clouded with the pain that he could not comprehend what was happening any longer.
___________________

Jesus of Nazareth knelt on the soft grass near a large tree in the garden. All was still and a whisper of wind floated lazily without care. If only they could understand, His followers would not now be sleeping. Bowing His head He fervently prayed, pouring out His heart to the Father. I know what I must do but isn’t there any other way? Beads of sweat formed on his brow, followed by droplets of blood. Never had something been so difficult. No, my son I have placed this task before you. There is no other way. Even now Jesus could feel a fatigue creep into His bones that He had never felt. He was weary. Yes, Father. And that was all.
Loud shouts came from where the Son of God had left His disciples. It was time. Standing to His feet he found a determination that strengthened Him. He was ready to face them. When He came into view Judas Iscariot ran to the master and kissed Him calling Him Rabbi. Guards, upon seeing the gesture immediately drew swords and were about to take Him, when Simon Peter brought forth his own sword and lashed out at one close to him, it was the servant of the High Priest called Malchus.
“Peter stop!” Jesus said as the man fell to his knees with a gasp, his ear having been severed from his head. Jesus bent down, picked up the ear, and then gently pressed it back into place.
“Put away your sword! For he who lives by the sword shall die by it. Do you not think that I could call out to my Father in Heaven and have legions of angels at my disposal?” After this was done the Romans took Him and his followers fled. The air was still eerily calm, nature not knowing what had transpired that night. The glow of many torches pierced the blackness and sent the rancid stench of hate to waft over Gethsemane.
_______________________

Something heavy was placed on His shoulders. Splintering wood rubbed away at what skin He had left. Forced to walk Jesus stumbled, fell, and was yanked to His feet over and over again. The weight of the cross finally overtook Him and it was impossible for Him to stand. The soldier tried to pull him up but could not.
“You!” Jesus heard screamed in His ear. “Carry His cross!” A man from the crowed named Simon was dragged away from his family and shoved into Christ’s place, carrying the ugly tree on his back. The procession continued down the rutted path to Golgotha. Whisperings came from the crowd.
“Who is that one?” they said. “What did he do?” questioned one. “It’s the Jew from Nazareth. He has claimed to be the Son of God” answered another. On and on they went, step after torturous step. At long last they made it to The Place of the Skull. Simon was shoved aside and the cross thrown to the ground. Two others dropped their burdens on either side of the Lord. Soldiers held the struggling men down and nailed their wrists and ankles to the wood amide shrieks of agony. Blood curdling screams tore at the sky, and faded into the haunting chants of a vengeful crowd. A sign that read This is the King of the Jews was nailed at the top of Christ’s cross and then the trees rose up as one.
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!” He cried out as the tree fell into place with a resounding thud. Soldiers mocked him and with a pole, lifted a sponge filled with vinegar to his lips. He couldn’t breathe; His lungs were heavy and felt as if they were torn, unable to hold life giving air. One of the criminals hanging next to Jesus hurled insults at Him as well.
“You say you’re the Christ! Why don’t you save yourself and us?” he bellowed.
“Don’t you fear God?” rebuked the other. “We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve! But this one has done nothing wrong.” The thief turned to Him as best he could and said, “Lord remember me when you enter your kingdom.”
Jesus breathed so shallowly that he could hardly speak but he struggled anyway, “Truly I say unto you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” The sky grew black and thunder pounded in their ears as lightning cut out bizarre shapes in the firmament. Then He felt the Father turn His back on Him. The wrath for all sin past, present, and future poured out.
“My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” screamed the holy and perfect sacrifice. The earth shook and the blackness consumed them all. Then with a loud cry the Savior of the world said, "It is finished" and breathed His last. His arms were locked in a deathly embrace. The temple curtain was ripped clean in half and utter chaos followed. Crazed people ran in every direction and a soldier stopped at the foot of the wondrous tree.
“Truly, this was the Son of God.” he whispered to the air about him. And when the earth finally ceased its tremor only the women who had followed and cared for the Christ remained watching all these things from a distance.

______________________

Of course this is not where the story ends. It goes on to Jesus’ burial and resurrection and from there on, to His final return. You can read this story as witnessed by followers of the Christ in Matthew chapter 26-28, Mark chapter 14-16, Luke chapter 22-24, and John chapter 18-21. This description is just my own rendition taken from all four original accounts.

Dragon Lore

Winged mistress of the skies
Swooping, swooning, calling sighs

Clouds part before her frame
Mortal man won’t dare to tame

Breathing fire from within
Mighty dragon, last of kin

Claws and fangs, sharp as steel
Stalk and grasp an ample meal

Shining scales, the purest stone
Magic words are also known

Green eyes fierce as raging storm
Fighting all with perfect form

Flying steed at home on earth
None were present at your birth

Cruelly forgotten, cast off you were
Left for those with hoofs and fur

Witless things unable to soar
Lost anew, our dragon lore

What became of unicorns?
Swallowed up by time and thorns

Centaurs too have loped away
Gone forever and a day

Pixies, ogres, even elves
All just pages on my shelves

Griffins with their catlike ways
Fly away their wings they raise

Dragons please come back to me
Live again and be free

Legends and myths are all that survive
But I know you’re real and once were alive

Wha...?

Bike Blues was a writing asignment i had last year and i never finished it so i think im gonna try lol. i wanted to explain because it sounds so random. i might finish it eventually, or i might just leave it....who knows? well anyway peacin out.

The Mage

Bike Blues

The wind howled as it swirled around in circles. Bitter and harsh it whipped up the snow and tossed it into the air. The small creature scampered across the yard and scurried up the tall birch tree. He ruffled his bushy tail and began grooming himself, removing all traces of the winter flurry outside. As his heart rate slowed he spit out his precious cargo into his favorite hiding spot. Cautiously he peeked out of his home in the tree. The wind still furiously tore apart anything in its path. The sound of the creaking picket fence was muffled by the roaring lion. There against the fence was a strange object. It stuck out like a sore thumb; a blue bike against a white blanket of snow, or at least what was left of the paint was blue. The malevolent rust ate away at the simple machine like a lurid disease creeping along its frame. It just stood there dejectedly leaning against the wooden barrier. The squirrel felt sorry for the bike. The hateful little boy who left it out in the callous Minnesota blizzards of winter was now huddled comfortably around a warm fire. The fuzzy little animal was helpless to help the bike. He so longed to bring it in to his cozy home in the tree, but this feat was out of the question. The squirrel dolefully turned away.

Unnamed

I stand alone in the tall prairie grass. In the distance I see a bolt of lightning split the sky softly illuminating the outlying trees. It is too far away for me to hear the thunder but I can see it clearly as well as the full moon shining down from above like a beaming grandparent upon a small child. Oh, God how your splendor overwhelms me, calling glistening tears to fall and forcing me to my knees. I dig my fingers into the soft earthy ground as I breathe in deeply. I marvel at the gorgeous, nightly panorama laid out before me by the Father. He knows me deeper than any other and exactly how to awe me. His presence captivates me and commands my attention. I feel his love radiating all around and softly speaking my name. Oh, the beauty of the sound of the whispering breeze as it caresses my cheek, and playfully tugs at my hair. A deep welling within stirs my heart with love for my Lord. I know I am unworthy to be in his company and yet I also know that he sees me as his perfect child through the blood of his Son. I once more breathe in deeply while I watch the stars twinkle above me. Too many to count, yet He knows them each by name. How small I feel, but oh, so loved and cherished by the King. The King who knows when the tiniest sparrow falls and clothes each and every budding flower. How wonderful is my God, and how gracious His mercy. Now, as I stand to my feet the tears spill unheeded as His power washes over me. I feel His loving embrace and the moon shines more brightly than I have ever seen. Is this what Heaven will be like? I picture myself kneeling at His throne. Oh, to fall at my master’s feet and worship Him for all eternity. While on earth, I must rely on Him to get me through. It irks me to think of facing this world alone and I thank God everyday that I will never have to be without him. The rain begins to fall. A soft pitter-patter taps the earth, each drop a testament to life. I stand in the rain for several glorious moments and then reluctantly return to my home and climb into bed. My prayers are fervent and I know in my heart that they are heard and answered. My last thoughts before drifting off are of my magnificent Savior and his redeeming love.

Tasting My Own Medicine

i started writing this article last year at school but never really completed till recently. i believe this with all my heart but have done a very poor job at following my own advice. someday i hope to achive true contenment and disciplin. God is constantly working on me and im glad that he'll never give up. what would any of us do without him? im so glad i dont have to know wat that is like. i hope u enjoy and if u dont agree i would like to be enlightened. May the Lord bless you and keep you in your coming years.

The Mage

The Value of Time

A person’s life is defined not by the large things that happen but by the miniscule choices that one makes every day. One thing that plays a large part in our decision making is time. People say that “stopping to smell the roses” is a waste of time, or that they don’t have time for this or that. They say, “Life is short, get done what you can.” Life is only short because we make it so. We don’t have time for the important things, only the urgent ones. The things that need doing now are what hold our attention. There are 86,400 seconds in every day and usually all 86,400 of them are stolen by unimportant urgency. We need to ask ourselves “What matters more?” We need to strictly sort out our priorities. People at the end of their lives say things like “If only I hadn’t chosen to…I wouldn’t be here.” or “If only that one person that one time hadn’t made that one decision, I would be a completely different person.” These decisions are dictated predominantly by time. The only truly unforgiving thing in this world is time. You can’t go back once you’ve gone forward. Every moment is someone’s first, and every moment is someone’s last. Life goes on from beginning to end. What will you do with your time? Choose what you will do with your time in a manner that you won’t be ashamed of when you reach eternity. I saw a t-shirt the other day that said, “Live your life so the pastor doesn’t have to lie at your funeral.” I know you have heard it a million and one times but don’t put off for tomorrow what you could get done today. This proverbial phrase has been lightly thrown around for years, but how can it be diligently applied? I cannot tell you that for I too struggle horribly with this issue. I have found that the American culture is a slave to the tyranny of time. Almost every new invention that comes out is to make things easier and to fit them in to your “busy schedule” because you don’t have time to do it the other way. A few examples of these inventions are as follows: microwave ovens, Campbell’s soup to go, anything portable, fast food, e-mail replaces letters and cell phones replace home phones. I’m not saying these are bad things just making my point of how dependant Americans have become of things that are quick and easy so it doesn’t slow down their busy lifestyle. One of my favorite things to say when I’m joking around with my friends about how life is too hectic is, “Stop the world I wanna get off!” I imagine the world spinning around at a super high speed and me jumping off into outer space where everything is calm and peacefully slow. Unfortunately though, we can not just jump off the world when life gets crazy, but we can make an effort to slow it down by prioritizing our priorities (my apologies for the redundancy). I hope this strikes a cord and that we can all, myself included, slowly begin to convert from unimportant urgency to non-urgent importance. I have one last question to leave with you. Why spend your life attaining your American dream and building your career only to find at the end of your life that you have passed things by and wasted all your strength and energy on working?

Finished

What can I say it’s done, and even though there r many more things I could talk about or explain I think that would ruin the mystery. Your childhood is what defines who you will become. I like this piece a lot because it helps me remember all the things that made me who I am. I didn’t want to describe the garden, only what it saw because I want people to read it and remember what their own childhood homes were like and what experiences they remember. Maybe some of their memories were similar to mine. Hope u enjoy this little look into my past. luv ya all lots.

The Mage

My Childhood Garden

My childhood garden was a dear sweet friend. So many memories I shared with that little piece of earth. Sadness and joy, tears with both. So many things I long to find again in that peaceful little place. I see a child who found a lost treasure. A small gold coin buried, only to be uncovered by a miniature hand. On another day the garden served as the final resting place for a young puppy. His tiny heart was too weak to go on. This day brought a great sadness over all who looked upon the girl weeping for the little dear. Still other days life went on, the raking of leaves in late fall, the covering of snow in early spring. A pet turtle burrowed in that ivy searching for a breakfast of worms. Long slender fingers worked alongside little chubby hands pulling weeds and planting flowers. Days came and went, turning into years. The aspen in front of the door was cut down and new grass was laid to rest. The garden stayed the same as twice the house was painted and the luscious grass was torn up by rowdy youngsters playing football. The garden witnessed the little girl hurrying down the driveway with a packed bag. It watched the same little girl come running home when she got hungry and cold. The garden caught the streamers as the girl said bon voyage to her tenth year. She cheered aloud as her mother cried inwardly for time to slow down. But alas it trudged on. The garden watched the girl in her young years, comforting her in sad times and rejoicing with her in glad ones. It cradled her as she prayed after a dognapping and it caught the tears when her friend was returned. It gave itself up to her little experiments and let her dig for more buried treasure. Bike jumping competitions and street hockey were a favorite of the neighborhood children and when a mysterious man gave them all candy the garden watched them run and tell mommy. In the winter mommy would take her and her brothers outside to collect snow for snow ice cream and give them one carrot and two chocolate chips for the face of their snowman. In the spring she would hand them bags to pick up the crab apples that had fallen on the ground. In summer the garden was showered with sprinklers and little pattering feet, squeals of delight filled the air as cold water touched warm bodies. Fall brought the leaves and children to rake them into piles and jump in them. So many things happened there, and the little girl finally had to leave her childhood home. Moving away from that little garden where so many memories were made was hard but she got through it. Even though she left the garden, God did not leave her. He nurtured and cared for her until now, that girl is me looking back to her. How young and innocent she was and still is in many ways. I love her but I know she is gone from me. Perhaps though she will be seen again in future generations with a garden of her own to watch her live and love, to change and be. Maybe, just maybe her charming smile will once more fall onto a beloved plot of land shining upon and nurturing the beautiful inhabitance. So much can be said but so small a space in which to write. Memories, a million or more, flood over me and take me back to my childhood garden.

Twilight

Pink, orange and purple are spattered across the sky. Golden splashes swirl through the clouds making a path that seems fit for God himself. Dusty puffs float beneath his feet embracing the earth below in a fluffy blanket. Dusk slowly creeps in stealing away the magnificent color and replacing it with a light, hazy fog. The smell of moisture in the air comforts as the ground prepares for a subtle spring shower. The carpet of velvety green thirstily sips at the melodious gift. The world is slowly lulled by the sinking of the sun and is softly serenaded by the grand orchestra of chirping musicians. Peace wraps her arms around the weary child and rocks it gently in her arms. The child’s eyes droop lower and lower as it is tenderly cradled and crooned. Twinkling fireflies begin to appear in the night sky dancing and swaying with the rotation of the earth. Glowing moon chases them and sheds its mirrored light on the nocturnal inhabitance. An owl adds his baritone to the insect choir as his wise old eyes search out his flittering whiskered friend with the intention of inviting him up for a late night snack. Fortunately for the mouse this neighborly gesture is deftly eluded. All manner of creatures both great and small are driven from hiding to begin their nightly routine, but through it all the calming peace comforts each and every one.

Dawn Awakening

Deep, dark, drowning night. Yawning spectacle in bottomless hours of darkness creeps around as a hulking figure black and blue, a wicked bruise smudged across the sky. Stalking demons restless and alone cry out to warn of bitter end. Black beating drums carry them thrashing out their sporadic rhythm. Frightened death shrieks its outlandish and unearthly screams. Eeriness, an apprehensive tension dangling from a slim thread and when severed all Hell will break loose. Shivering, shuddering, shaking dread. Panic stricken figures emerge unable to hold back, flesh is all that stands in the way of their tearing off in every direction at once. Few are rescued from this world collapsing from sheer anxiety. Trembling stalks of unseen green wilt unwilling to stand firm, choosing tranquility over trepidation. Finally earth and sky are silent. Anger and fear hold their breath, controlling still the mortal minds. A sliver ever so slowly snakes its way over the horizon. It passes unnoticed except for a slight release of the taut hold grasped by the viciously malevolent Balrog. A thin fingering tendril stretches out winding carefully through the closely knit fabric of space. A quiet backdrop appears engulfing anger and swallowing up fear. The wispy shroud is no longer still and stirs, an apparition materializing from slumber. Feathery hillocks are outlined against the scene pointing true, locked as heavenly beacons of hope. A small tune grows from the gentle hum of the whispering wind to a trumpeting symphony with a grand melody floating on the breeze. Gradually the screaming demons flee and soft fluttering angels take their place, their songs gathering strength. The light periwinkle halo steals up overcoming the blemished sky and squeezing into each niche, crowding out every gloomy veil. Trembling ceases and fear abates as dawn awakens.

My Super hero

Indestructible
Not able to feel hurt.
I don’t want a superman.
Superman is callous but perfect.
Nonhuman, unfeeling, and impersonal.
I don’t need a hero man who can’t be shaken.
A rescuer yes, who will pull me from this monotony.
Someone to share my heartache and other human feelings.
I enjoy being rescued and protected sometimes; I’m not weak.
I can stand alone if need be, I only ask for someone to look up to.
I need guidance and protection often, but I also need caring and loving.
Superman cannot hurt he cannot feel he cannot love he can only save others.
I need someone who needs me; if he cannot break he does not need me.
A loving caring person who has heartache and can empathize mine.
Joy and happiness are warranted for a perfectly imperfect bond.
Perfect imperfection is not easily found or captured in heart.
Chaos is often valued as a gem above gems with him.
Confusion can sometimes be a stunning article.
Perfection is monotonous no matter what.
Life and reality are usually a mess.
This is for superman to worry.
Let him save mankind.
I want more.

Seasoning

Peaceful rain comes in spring dripping, drenching, dribbling fling.
Babies born from the womb seeking, sleeping, sweeping bloom.
Flowering petals pretty and pink grasping, growing, gloating wink.
Hot outside and having fun squashing, scorching, squelching sun.
Racing through a sprinkler shower taunting, trickling, twinkling tower.
Goofing off with friends each day jumping, joshing, joking way.
Changing leaves drop to the ground floating, fluttering, falling down.
Turning colors that aren’t there own shifting, shrinking, shaking moan.
Now the trees will undress exposing, enduring, ensuing regress.
Snowy evening’s heart’s desire waiting, waking, warming fire.
Cold wind bites at the core freezing, flurrying, fuming sore.
Christmas trees are evergreen loving, laughing, leaping scene.
All the seasons in a year changing, chafing, chiding cheer.

Crying Rain

She sat on her bed staring out the window at the rain. Tears slid silently down her cheeks. A small dog sat in her lap looking up at her, concern showing in her companions eyes. She rubbed her friend’s ears absent mindedly. All she could see was the rain, all she could feel was the cold, all she could hear was the silence and a soft pitter patter on the window pane. The rain fell steadily for what seemed like hours. The creature in her lap stirred and changed position to get comfortable more than once. The girl stared on. Persistent rain, persistent tears until neither were definable. Water fell all around. Cold, dark, rain ripped the sky apart and seemingly mixed with the soft helpless tears. Raging torrent turned to complacent drizzle as bitter sobs turn to feeble weeping. “Heart broken” a term she had disregarded many a time now haunted her. Cold loneliness seeped through her veins working its way to her core, her very essence, her soul being. The foggy mist swirled through to her heart, numbing as it went. A tremor racked her frame; chills ran up and down her spine. Fingers slipped from the edge of the cliff, battered by the downpour. She was falling, falling into a black abyss. Falling, falling, out of sight. Near the bottom now, or what appeared to be the end of all. What was that? Could it be? A touch of warmth. A gentle finger, a strong hand, a trustworthy arm, a tender embrace. Love radiating all around. Timidly she came out of her reverie. Her tears were being wiped away and she looked into the comforting face of the one who held her. Such warmth and love she felt emanating from him. A blanket was wrapped firmly about them both and the rain softly turned to pure white snow flakes. The chill air outside could not penetrate the amorous hold and instead shielded it. The girl’s muscles one by one relaxed as she let him console and calm her. The little dog now satisfied of its master’s relieved emotions snuggled deeply into the blankets, a fire springing from within. Warmth, love, comfort, belonging, safety all came flooding through her wiping away every trace of the numbness. She was his, and the old could fall away to a bad memory. Reality was him. Reality was now. Reality was Love.

Yearning Spirit

One day my love I will uncover your secret charm
One day my knight we will ride off into the setting sun
You will slay the dragon of my soul
And capture my heart for your own
What glorious laughter and grand jubilation
Triumphant victory of lovers united
Rescue me my prince from the depths of despair
Before I grow old, isolated and alone
I wish for you and wait with bated breath
Declare your undying affection for me
The warmth of your touch is electrifying
One day I shall feel that touch
One day I will hear that pledge
The longing of my soul is ever searching for yours
I will stay pure only for you I remain
Your presence does defy all others
I hope for us in the quiet of the night
I pray for us as I stroll beside the rippling stream
Come take me away with you my heart’s desire
Free me from these shackles formed by the despised
Reveal to me yourself in exchange for my entire being
Let me give you myself and commit your core to my own
One day my love I will unearth your cautious allure
One day my love you will rescue my heart

Limbo

I’m stuck in a world,
With no up and no down.
Everything’s backwards,
Reversed with no sound.
I’m the minority,
In this place that I stay.
I cannot get out,
No how and no way.

The Majestic Feline

Cleopatra stretched and yawned. Her dainty teeth and claws shown pearl white. Fuzzy fur and soft wispy whiskers were carefully placed askew by the gentle breeze as it kissed her cheeks. The cat’s back arched as she stood on her tip toes. The patchwork quilt she wore was unique, sewn with burnt orange, earth brown, midnight black and snowy white. She sat back on strong haunches, cleverly disguised by her petite form. Rippling muscles were hidden under the soft blanket. The mischievous tail, with a mind of its own, flicked back and forth constantly with a deceptively nonchalant grace. Obsidian orbs set in glowing emerald spheres could deceive even the most fearful of mice. Elegant ears rose like hillocks from the noble brow. A pretty nose complimented the shape of the face it was set in and the pink coloring perfectly matched the tongue, which now scoured every inch of her flawless frame. After the bath she sauntered over to the porch, claiming her royal position by the glass door as she waited for her daily treat.

Me Emo?

No I'm not going Emo although my family may think so. I wrote An Average Teen, because at my school in an assembly we were talking about how people lable other people, for instance Emos. I started thinking why are they the way that they are? I decided to put myself in their shoes. It wasn't that difficult because we all have the same problems, it's how we deal with them that makes us different. I don't think that we should make fun of them, i think we should empathize with them and encourage them. We put others down because they are different from us and handle heartache in an odd way. I think it's like what Wannabe was saying about homosexuals. No being Emo is not a sin, but we have the same things to go through as they do for the most part. I'm not getting much feedback on this blog...what do you guys think?

Book Update

I just read this book called The Seer And The Sword, 340 pages all in one day. I loved it. It's about this princess named Torina and a captured Prince Named Landon (I think). It was great, anyone who is into High Fantasy should check it out. An easy read that's exciting and fun. I'm also currently reading The Sword of Shannara, another High Fantasy, but i find it rather dull. Many people i have talked to loved this book but it has been extremely boring. I'm about half way through The DaVinci Code, it is very well written and a good mind stretcher. My great uncle just loaned me The Autobiograghy of Benjamin Franklin. I haven't gotten a chance to read it yet but I will definately give you a review of it when I have. That's all I've got for now but if you have any questions about any of these books or others I will do my best to help you out. Also if you want to recomend any books feel free to. Thanks a lot.

The Mage

An Average Teen

Has there ever been a time when I’ve let you down? Where could I have gone wrong? Are you ashamed of the way that I turned out? I feel lost. Like I’m swimming in an aquatic globe of nonexistence. Oblivion means a state of being or utterly forgotten. This is how I feel. My stupor controls my every move, and I’m floundering for a foot hold on the wall of audacity. My strength is limited; I need a greater power to pull me to my feet. “God help me!” I scream into the night. What do you want from me? Have you given up on me? I know I’m not the only one who feels this way, there are others. They are all searching for the same object, acceptance. Little girls need to hear you are beautiful and precious, dream big. Little boys need to hear you are strong and able, you are good enough. If you don’t hear when you are young, then you will never grow up. Broken hearts and shattered dreams are all we have to show for our years in adolescence. We cry out for somebody anybody, but they just put us down and tell us we are scum. Listen to me now. I will be heard even if the others won’t. I demand your attention, give it to me! Don’t you see I’ve changed? Don’t you wonder why? It’s because you wouldn’t tell me what I needed to hear, so I went looking for it somewhere else. I left you behind long ago. I escaped, escaped into my own creation. I told myself those things you refused me, and others who didn’t care about me took advantage of my vulnerability. Don’t you see? You did this to me. You forced me to flee. I and you both ruined me. My stricken core, my beaten body, they are barely breathing. My laboring lungs slowly fill with life giving air. Any second now it could all be gone, it could all be over. It would be so easy to give up on you like you have so readily done for me. Just one last breath and then it can end. Death, such a sweet sounding word. But no isn’t this what you wanted? I will fight! I will not give up. I must survive, because no matter what you think I have a purpose. There is one who will listen. There is one who will care. That one will rescue me. That one will save my yearning soul. Only He knows who I truly am. Only He can satisfy my desire to be known, loved, accepted. I forgive you. You may have beaten me, or wounded my heart, or perhaps your only crime was that of unintentional disregard. It no longer matters for He has come and shown me the ultimate sacrifice. He has wiped every tear from my eye and made my lungs strong again, that I might live and love the way he lives and loves. I will forgive you but I will never forget you, for the trap of reoccurrence is far too easily found.

The Unforgotten

Based on the song Mercy Said No, by Greg Long



A little girl, lost and alone. Clothed only in rags, she apprehensively slinks through the foreboding alleys. As quiet as a mouse, she scurries from shadow to shadow. Fear reaches out and grips her in his icy claws, feeding her lies of abandonment and tearing hope from her grasp. She desperately struggles, but all hope of something more seems to slip through her frozen fingers. Her torment increases as she is once more attacked with the lies of her despiser.
“You’re not good enough. Nobody loves you. You are ugly. You are forgotten and alone.” Her small body quakes with the sobs of a broken heart. The girl cannot hold on much longer, her head swims and her grief screams around her. It seems that she will be devoured by the lions nearby who lick their lips in anticipation. Saliva drips revoltingly from their fangs.
Suddenly Mercy roars above the grief, “No! I’m not gonna let you go. I’m not gonna let you slip away. You don’t have to be afraid.” Mercy says “No!” Fear turns and shrieks. He knows that the chosen ones are forbidden to him, but this? A poor peasant girl?
“She is mine!” he rasps. “She is nothing to you.”
Mercy says, “No, she is everything to me. She is mine. Flee Fear and be gone from her.” Fear leaves howling and screeching, venting his rage at being deprived of his prey. Mercy slowly bends down and picks up the unnerved child. Cradling her in his arms he softly whispers in her ear, “It’s okay, I’m here now.” all wrath has vanished from his voice. He brushes away her tears, “I am so proud of you.” he says. Her big blue eyes stare longingly into his and a smile begins to turn up the corners of her delicate mouth as a peaceful calm settles over her like a warm blanket. “I love you my beautiful princess.” he coos as she serenely slips off into a comfortably deep slumber.