Noname

I know my God,
I know my God,
seen His breaks and His edges
are jagged for giving
that pain to His city in gold,

Like everything is everything,
like all them days He prayed with me,
like emptiness was tamed in me,

and all that was left was

His love.

Image Fail, Lifting Veil

Falling is easy



     Staying in love is hard


  Hard to be honest
And keep your heart open
  To be who we truly are



         Without the excuses
   


      Without the facade


 There’s no pretending




                                                                                                                         

here in Your love

Of Beaches and Apples

Not unexpectedly, I find myself missing you recently.  It suddenly struck me that September had quietly rolled in, accompanied by the cool autumn breeze.

It's been seven years since we met, almost exactly three since you returned home.  Early this September, I thought about you so I wrote this post out, but kept scratching my head, tossing it out, rewriting it, and couldn't find the words I wanted.  So for a couple of weeks, I left this post as is. But today, thoughts of you suddenly rushed into mind.  The subconscious always knows, I suppose.  It's almost exactly three years, after all.

You were always the best among us, I genuinely believe that.  You were more than a peer, you were a brother I respected.  You spurred me to press on when I fell, not because I was stretching my hand toward your back as you ran ahead, but because you'd never left my side to begin with.  The goal was never your goal, but the journey.

And you saw in each person, past their flaws and behavior, that every one of us is on a journey and we'll be on out the road until we return home.  You taught me much about sharing life with others, about listening to others, about sacrificing for others, about seeking goodness - like treasure - in others.  Your words were never laced with poison, but incessantly full of breath and spirit and life.  I know that's what drew people to you, because that's what drew me to you.  I admired that more than you knew. 

You loved hard and you loved with a persistence I've only known in a few of us.  As I thought about you today, I wondered how a friendship of just four years can so radically alter one's life.  I'm still wondering.  You shined so brightly in my life in those short years, and that light spoke to the wavering darkness in me.  But your light never stopped at you.  It shined like a beacon toward something greater than yourself.  It lit the path toward the everlasting sunset, toward the shores of the Timeless Halls, toward the land of the Great Lion.

One day, I'll join you there, brother.  One day, we'll run free together.

Until then, I'll remember your words and deeds, and I'll fight like I know you did.  Sometimes my flame burns low, but I'll fight to keep it going because you did.  You did through the IVs, the needles, and the constant pain, even through your body wasting away.  I know your spirit pressed on though your body couldn't.  Though your footprints on the road suddenly stop, I'll keep going because I know you'd never tell me to turn back or give up.  I have so much I want to share with you.  But it can wait until I see you again.

See you soon.

Beach Da(ys)ze

The asphalt, cracked from carrying the burden of a million stories and ten million worries.  The air tastes like specks of salt and smells like smoky sand.  The thrum of flipflops on foot, then ground, foot, ground.  The halfhearted breeze and grainy sand against my skin.  I'm back.  I'm... here.

for weary brothers and sisters (Revisited)

I’m sorry I judge, that

sometimes my mind makes up its mind so 

you become a caricature, 

a distorted portrait 

that I hang up in the hallways of my heart.

May Flower(s)

It's a peculiar thing to become suddenly aware of how your body and mind subconsciously attune themselves to time. Like the feeling that makes your gut heave as you dimly recall that you were supposed to do something later that afternoon, but you double-booked.  Or, like seasonal allergies, people find themselves inappropriately yet inexplicably gloomy during the vibrant spring.  Lately, my hands have taken to clamoring for the keyboard, and my mind has been restless without expression.  I checked my last post: April 27th.  As I type this, it's May 22nd.  What a peculiar thing it is.

April Showers

I wonder what it is about gray days that make them feel like lazy days, as though all we’d like to do is to stay inside and sit, perhaps with a book, that we might trade in for the company of friends. Or what it is about rainy days that makes us, even if some of us love splashing about outside, crave warm rooms and hot drinks, and possibly the company of family.

A few days ago, it rained in Ikoma.