John 15:16

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You did not choose Me, but I chose you...

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Strength

I grow weary of combat. Each battle I fight tears me down, closer to defeat. The world is a battlefield, and I am a soldier. I am not sure that this is what I have asked for, but I do know that it burdens my soul. It seems that I can always survive the battle, but will I be able to survive the war? My heart grows heavy. My body must work extra hard to disrupt the world’s forces against me.

Wake me up from this dream. Let this afflicted breath I breathe turn pure. Let my heavy burden turn to dust. I know I have been granted, the strength, but what I long for is peace.

For this moment is beautiful and I wish this heart beat would last forever. What should become of me if I leave this moment? I shall re-enter the battlefield. I shall conquer my fears, my tears, my hopelessness. God, grant me this peace. Grant me this prayer that I breathe. Let this heavy breath turn light and steady.

Halo

Your innocence is, henceforth, my lack thereof.
Your smile makes any situation a Utopia.
Life is suddenly worth living every time your joy shines through your eyes.
Like the feeling of the sun's soothing rays on my skin,
I feel refreshed to know that you are continuous.
The halo above my head convulses.

Storytelling

The moment becomes past, and the past becomes fiction.

Adults

I never thought that I would become one of them. They were a particularly mysterious group of people, and in fact, they were quite an eccentric bunch. It had always seemed as though they all had previous lives during which they were able to perfect the art of decision making, as to always make the optimal choices, since, in fact, they certainly knew what was best for everyone, including myself. What was most curious to me was that they were all the same in this way, yet they remained an eclectic group of people. Some saved lives. Others fought for justice. There were some who spent their lives fostering the intellect of others. However, all of them were full of passion and had fit perfectly into society, creating beautiful dynamics within the community, all while each trying to tame the world around them.

They were able to do this because they understood how the world worked and why people acted the way they did, and they functioned in their daily lives like the experts that they were; they took care of everything important and the most dire situations as if they had done it their entire lives. Perhaps they were not as similar as I had imagined, and maybe they had different life experiences. I did always find it particularly odd as to how they all ended up on such different paths and how different their journeys were relative to each other. What was this strange process of finding your passion like and how did they end up on their particular path, distinguished from the world of other unique opportunities around them? How peculiar that everything was so clear for them, when for me, my curiosity about everything in the world made if difficult for me to find my bliss among so many uniquely interesting paths.

Now, as I have begun to join their world, I understand that the lines for adults are not as clear as I had once thought and the ideas that each person holds are beautiful, unique, and most importantly, developed through the unique experiences one has and the way in which a person sees the world.

Following my dreams has been a rather difficult task in that my dreams are always evolving and changing. I have found that it is not the lack of inspiration that hinders this process, but it is the excess of inspiration.

one of my favorite quotes:

"the day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise."

-Alden Nowlan

Quenched, Salvaged

Familiarity tastes so sweet in this realm of despair.
Further, what s familiar is not always true.

What is a familiar face but a reflection of light?
Closeness, shared affliction, a connection that is never the same.

Love is only a piece of it, if it is a factor of it at all.
The intimate touch of the memories
to the warmth of a singular moment in time.
The feeling that a familiar face can bring about is necessary for love, in fact, it may be more comforting than true love.

What is more interesting is the passing of time
and how it quirks the view of what was real.
Realness is never true, but only emulated.
So perhaps there is no such thing as real.

Maybe we can be familiar with those whom we wish not to be.
Perhaps this can mean more than it should.
A connection between the human psyches of two people.
Any two people, this is the relation that holds us together.
Then why do men pursue death?
Perhaps they get lost.

Perhaps they are scared that they can connect with someone with such intimacy.
They are unfaithful.
Haunted by their relation to people in excess of one.

Who should worry?
Why should men not indulge in this metaphysical state of love?
The idea of passion can be pursued in a dream.
Even in consciousness.

Until the threshold is met, where familiarity turns into the Forgotten.
A transformation ensues, until one can no longer comprehend.
And then all feeling is lost.
One is alone.

But there is hope for man.
Familiarity may turn to truth.
Perhaps the emulator can become reality.
And man can worry not to the Forgotten.

A feeling so real cannot be altered.
A man will stand strong in his faith.

eight...

and perhaps it is in fact other humans that make you feel alive.

i wish i could jump forward, fall back, and stop in the eternal moment.

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perhaps life is not a journey. perhaps life is a dissarray of random events that coincidentally seem to relate. |perhaps love is not a feeling towards another. perhaps love is feeling unconditional bliss amongst yourself in the presence of a friend. perhaps being in love, and loving are the same thing. |perhaps sadness is not feeling a lack of contempt. perhaps sadness is when it feels as though you are being rejected, unaccepted, let go; by people and by the world. |perhaps a heartbreak is not your heart being in pain. perhaps a heartbreak is your heart preparing to be joyful, training so hard that it hurts. |perhaps light does not break darkness. perhaps darkness dissipates in the presence of light. |

perhaps.

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savor the sun

savor the sun

small, small child,
don't you grow up.
the world is big, too big.

remain in your innocence. remain innocent.
sleep tight, converse with your angels.
dream a dream with wings. big wings.

dance when your heart hears a melodic melody.
laugh with sincerity; cry when you are sad.
smile loudly. smile because joy overwhelms your soul.

play and play and play until you tire.
share your toys.
they're just toys, in fact. only toys.

paint a picture. a beautiful picture.
color outside the lines.
show the world your art. your heartfelt art.

squeeze so, so tightly when you give a hug.
kiss without shame, so light and airy.
love with your whole, whole heart.

savor the sun. and the moon. and the stars.
let the sunshine shine, and fill you with warmth.
and in the silence, savor your silent peace.

sing so sweet. so sweet like sugar.
your voice can overcome mountains.
don't act. act on your will

be free, child.
dear child,
be free.


-j

Emily Dickinson

She dealt her pretty words like Blades

She dealt her pretty words like Blades —
How glittering they shone —
And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone —

She never deemed — she hurt —
That — is not Steel's Affair —
A vulgar grimace in the Flesh —
How ill the Creatures bear —

To Ache is human — not polite —
The Film upon the eye
Mortality's old Custom —
Just locking up — to Die.

-Emily Dickinson