poem

The day was dying
red came from down the west
the sweet drought of infants
sighing into twilight
You could see the blue veins
in their eyes the lines across the sky
clouds rushing through the air
picking up light casting it off through the rain
Colors sprinkled across the cornfield
yellow, brown, red, and golden
dusk settled
breezes played through the grass
and were gone
silence quiet, waiting
A single voice high in the sky
piercing dark silence
a diamond sparkles on the horizon
weaving patterns across the sky
heroes, kings, horses, and serpens
Tales found by those of old
hidden in the stars
when their days drew close
and stories under these stars they told...

And here am I dreaming

hits

Sometimes you have to just let it go. Sometimes there's really nothing you can do to make the situation any better, it just has to be crappy. Because that's the way the world works. That's the way life is. That's what sin does to us. It takes anything in our lives and twists it around into something barely recognizable. Sin marrs everything it touches.

Some people are content with that. Some people are ok with the mediocre. I'm not. I know that we weren't made to die. I know that God has mercy. Without that I think I would have killed myself by now. Why live in a world with no hope, no future? Thank God I have both.

I've never been very agile at rolling with the punches. I don't like that kind of change. Unfortunately it just happens to be a big part of my life right now so I'll have to learn how to wrestle.