“Whatever life takes away from you, let it go. When you surrender and let go of the past, you allow yourself to be fully alive in the moment. Letting go of the past means you can enjoy the dream that is happening right now.”

-don Miguel Riuz.

The story of a man...

Once upon a time, there was a girl with no soul. She walked the town with her head raised and her strides even. Walking steady as people taunted her flesh that mirrored her fragile bones and was stained a deep purple. Her face remained a cold stone but her sides were cringing under the piercing swords, of words that burned deeper that of a bullet's sting. Everyday she walked these routes of the King's lands, filled with people of higher accord in dwellings of royalty. To them she was a wretched harlot who threw away her dignity and spat on her parents good fortune. She was a rebel. The girls heart was a beating stone that bled in her deep silent agony and she played the part her peers assigned unable to argue her standings or her pain. For years she was dying a deadly role with no way to escape, she was drowning in her sorrows, and screaming calls for life, each day she'd roam the same course. Each day was the same, and it never got better.

Today on her routine walk through the town she was shoved to the ground by tremendous hands, being beaten and cursed, with blowing kicks and rips to her body, she CRIED out her pain she wailed petitions for help. "I need you!" she screamed to an unknown recipient, "Save me!" finally the blows stopped and she laid lifeless in the road. A man came upon her and knelt beside the broken girl, a man no one had seen, or ever known, lifted her chin and breathed life into her lungs. This man in all white kissed her head and raised her to her feet, as he whispered to her heart "I'm here, and I love you. Follow me, and there will be life." The girl wept and wept but felt no more pain, she gazed deep in the mans eyes and fell back to her knees singing praises to her unknown savior. She reached to kiss his saving hands and found herself mesmerized by the scar in his palm. The man knelt beside her and spoke "Because you have cried out my name, I have saved you, under the blood that bled from these scars, you have been set free from the chains of this world and there is a place for you in the kingdom on high, my kingdom, I am Jesus Christ, I am your Lord, and I am your savior."

Cry out to the Lord on High and He will save you, Remember His sacrifice and sing praises for in Him you find a life more abundant than any other. He is healer of our acing hearts and through His blood we are made clean, but to those who deny His name and harden their hearts before His gracious offering, will suffer eternity amidst the flames of hell and the shackles of the enemy. You are not promised time, and you cannot buy your salvation.

Sappy Love Songs.

I want to write a nonfiction love song, because I dont have one yet, Ive got almost and maybes and "what happened here baby" but not a love song. But we've got time to kill all the reasons we should hold back.. and I wear you on a locket around my neck, I haven't opened it up yet, but I'll look back and laugh I bet, and talk about these days like they were stories of old. I wish my voice would echo through galaxies and such just to scratch the surface of explaining to you just how much I'm glad you dont have to try, you dont have to change.. baby you stay just the same..I used to want time to run so quickly, but now crawling is fine. The older I get the more I see I need every moment to let my roots grow down deep, so we have time to kill all the reasons to kill all the reasons we should hold back, and I am still wearing you on this locket around my neck, I haven't opened it up yet, but ill look back and laugh I bet and tell you about these days like they are stories of old.. Im working on my voice echoing through galaxies and such to scratch the surface of explaining to you just how much... i love you. Ill try not to wish you would hurry, Im learning how not to worry, I dont want to let you down.. Could I sing to you every week, make just enough for what we need and walk together around the town. I wish my voice would echo through galaxies and such to scratch the surface of explainging to you just how much Im glad you dont have to try you dont have to change, you can stay just the same..

If you were a melody Id sing you all the time, If your hands were poetry Id memorize every line, and if every look you gave me were a different hugh or shade of color Id learn how to pain you, or at least Id try. If you were in words in a story youd be in a book thats overdue, somewhere hidden in my closet looked a million times for you and if you were just one day youd be the very first of May and Id be sunlight in your skies, or at least I'd try. What are the words that you say, and I wish I knew all the prayers that you pray, and everywhere you go I wish that I could stand next to you... I'll try. You know I'd try.

Like a window to the sky, or a telescope to the eye.. Like a stamp to a letter I want to know you better I want be so much nearer I want to go together with you. Like a photograph to a smile, a runner to a mile, strings to a chello, a wave to a "hello how are you" I want to go together with you. Like a face in the mirror I want to see you clearer I want to be so much nearer and I want to go together with you.. Paint to a canvas, first day nervous, birthday to a wish, long distance calls and I miss you. I want to go together with you.. Lock to a key, you to me...... Im your tune, I miss the sounds you make, theyre wearing thing these months im living in. The phone line outside my house, wonder what words it has seen, what would happen if they all spilled out and I got the lovely ones for free.. Tie the in a bow and send them your way on the fastest train i know to get to you, do i really need a reson besides I want to and I have an unending debt to love you. If you were to say that you love thursdays I'd do my best to plan I'd find a way, convince them to escape their usual weekday clan, id set them right so theyre side by side on a calander for you, throw the old one out and keep a yellow storage house of sunny saturdays too, free for you to use. Tie them in a bow and send them your way on the fastest train I know to get to you. Do i really need a reason besides I want to, and Ive got an unending debt to love you. Check your mail did i get your address right, Id hate to think that anybody else mightve picked up all the letters sent for you.. Wait a minute! Wait a minute Mr. Postman! Wait Mr Postman! Mr postman, look and see is there a letter for me.. Do I really need a reason besides I want to and I have an unending debt to love you.

Songbird.

I want to be a songbird, and I want to sit in the tallest branch, on the tallest tree, and I want to sing lullabies to earth as she cries, and I really want to try and make her laugh. I want to be a songbird, and I want to watch the sunrise, with my love by my side, and I want to grow, I want to learn, I want to fire, and I want to burn, I want to rise and I want to fall I want to run and I want to crawl. I want to be a songbird and i just want to try to know how far and deep and wide this love is that you give, thats what it is to really live. To just try and look around, see you in our breaths, and hear you in our sounds. I want to be a songbird, go through things that I need, make me hurt and make me bleed, I will rise and see the light, Ill pray my way through the night. I want to be a songbird, I want to sing lullabies to earth as she cries, but I really want to try and make her laugh, like you make me laugh. Take the strings and the things I use to tie me to the ground, let them all be gone... I want to be a songbird.

Fake Plastic trees.

Green plastic watering cans, for a fake shiny rubber plant, and a fake plastic love, that she bought from a rubber man in a town full of rubber plants, to get rid of itself... and it wears her out.... she lives with a broken man, a crack pot aspiring man, who just crumbles and burns.. he used to do surgery, for girls in the 80's but gravity always wins.. and it wears him out.. She looks like the real things, come on she tastes like the real thing, but fake plastic love.. oh but i cant help but feeling like a nurse with a seedling, if i just had time to run... and it wears me out.

if i could be who you wanted..

if i could be who you wanted,

if i could be who you wanted,

if i could be who you wanted,

if i could be who you wanted..

oh time.......

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVII

I have this story in my head, One thats constantly being rewritten and played out. It's a good story, its tortured and tattered, with yellow-aged pages and the bind is slowly breaking. But it's the book I can't seem to stray from for too long. It's a classic, like old vinyls on a dusty record spin. It's impacting if you read it with a soundtrack, it will live on, change frequently. So in between the bindings of my storybook, there is no title, and no defined ending. It feels like I have read only the beginning, but I know I could have just written the end. So as I sit and think on the days to come and the days of the past I more frequently realize that the best part and the most important part of the book is the very page that I'm on, the very words just starting to take shape. Not the name scrolled on aging pages, or faces soon described in full.. The history has been carved in stone, and the coming days are undecided. But with each breath of now I write another word; is it a noun, a pronoun an adjective, or a verb? Am I going, staying, lost, or found? What do I feel, what do I desire, what do I want in these seconds? What crawls on my flesh and whispers in my ear, what lies on my tongue, and what keeps my feet stable, what fills my hands and winds trough my fingers? Am i talking, laughing, crying? Or am i alone in silence? What jumbles in my brain, and who calls out my name? Hows the weather, and what is my location? The aroma of my days are sponged onto each page with such delicacy, written with the pen of a master author, and the story line of an all knowing creator. So as each word carries on, I read in suspense, my happily ever today.

-end chapter.-

Jesus Reigns over everything.

I am but a frail thing, a tattered coat upon a tree of bones;

I am dust and divinity, two sides of the great human contradiciton.

The definition of sanity is being in touch with reality, and the most REAL thing in the world is God. So the defining quality of insanity must be being out of touch with that reality... Being distant or out of touch with God. At birth we're born filthy rags, we're born "insane" if you will, but encoded deep deep inside of us is this yearning and this need and desire for God. Even though we don't know that's what we're searching for we start our lives looking, trying to meet and fill our own deep groans for life. So we fill, and we fill and we bury ourselves in useless things, and we remain broken.. unfinished and unclean. And still Jesus reigns over everything and uses all things for His goodness. Jesus brings us to His throne and washes us new... because of this I still believe that my dragging moments are held in Your hands, and the raging waves buried deep in my loins are obtainable for You. The fire that leaves my stone heart in ashes is tamed by Your words, and I trust in You, and I believe that You can heal me.. As I lie here broken and in pain I have faith that You can build me up again. You're the only one who can manage that, and for these reasons You are all I need, You are my portion and You are my prize, You're more than enough.. I'm placing my trust in Your holy hands and asking You, begging You to heal me........

The enemy knows my weakness, and he keeps my wounds fresh. But tonight I'll take up my armor, and gallantly fight for righteousness. I cannot account for days past or days to come but tonight I will take my cross, and I will count these costs. Tonight I will take hold of this very moment and in this time You take me by the words You have spoken.. I am rushed by this never ending hope that through You I will overcome. I rejoice in knowing that one day I will see you and know that the only thing worth holding onto is holding onto me. I kneel to show you this desperate aching heart of stone that still beats between my ribs.

As for me, I look to the Lord for help.

I wait confidently for God to save me,
and my God will certainly hear me.

Do not gloat over me, my enemies!

For though I fall, I will rise again.

Though I sit in darkness,

the Lord will be my light.

I will be patient as the Lord punishes me,

for I have sinned against Him.

But after that, He will take up my case,

and give me justice for all I have suffered from my enemies.

The Lord will bring me into the light and I will see his righteousness.

(Micah 7:7-9)