|
| voices are echoing loudly these days. Rarified air--- i can't think properly. What are you saying to me? The house is burning down?!?!?!? What?!?! oh. Sorry. We're out of milk. that's what you said. Don't know why I couldn't understand. Where are you? The bathroom? No. the attic. RIGHT. Got it. I think? Could you say that again? Try it slower this time. Confusion. Frustration.
listen... softly slower now.
But don't you realize? I'M A MESS. You don't want me. All these impurities--- we're back at them. The same old cutting block arguing with the same old dreams.
will you come?
Come? What? Aren't you going to answer my question? Thats not what I'm worrying about--- I have BIG problems. Aren't you listening? Aren't yo...
will you dream bigger?
Don't you care about me AT ALL??? WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!?! I can't hear you. I don't know whats you. I think my thoughts are you. But then its not. I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE . ISN'T THAT A PROBLEM!?!??!!?! I'm killing everything you've tried to give me. IT's all falling apart, it's all brok...
Can you trust me?
*silence*
please say yes? I still want you. I still love you---- I still want you. these things don't matter to me. you know that. now trust me. please say yes? whats mine is yours... if you want it, just come, draw near--- it's yours. come take it. Trust me.
tentative thoughts. that's what I want. thats what I yearn for but.... can I?
don't think. don't rationalize. just KNOW me. you do know me. you love me. so trust me.
How can I learn to see the big picture? | | |
| [despite my inhibitions, I decided to post something that I found buried in the archives while digging through file transfers]
Dancing with my Hero
I am a dancer, This is my life
A child, A daughter, and will be a wife
I have a lover, He is my hero
My perfect partner, He is my hero
He hugs me gently and whispers to me
"Won't you dance with me"
My Hero sings
"Won't you dance with me, My Love
Dance with your
Humble servant
Dance with me, My Love"
The musician playing my heart
The craftsman who knows his art
You are a warrior and a lover
You are my strength and my cover
"Won't you dance with me"
My Hero sings
"Won't you dance with me, My Love
Dance with your
Humble servant
Dance with me, My Love"
My warrior Poet
My dearest Friend
The one who will love me
To the very end
"Won't you dance with me"
My Hero sings
"Won't you dance with me, My Love
Dance with your
Humble servant
Dance with me, My Love"
You lift me higher
When I fall down
My feet are tired
But you make me spring
You Dance with me my Hero
He hugs me gently and whispers to me
"This is my secret dance with you
This is our dance in the rain
This is your secret dance with me
Won't you dance with me my love"
He hugs me gently and whispers to me
"Won't you dance with me"
My Hero sings
"Won't you dance with me, My Love
Dance with your
Humble servant
Dance with me, My Love
(11/7/05)
[I have absolutely no idea why I wrote this when I did. Looking at the date, it makes absolutely no sense. I even checked the file info to make sure that I didn't date it wrong. I laughed to myself reading it. How could I have written something like that from the place I was at that time? And so I post it. Despite the fact that it is somewhat cheesy --- as would always be true in writing something from a place of ignorance. And yet, at the same time, I am shocked at some of the accuracy it includes... a few years before I could have even imagined being where I am today. Is it not amazing how God plants impossible dreams, visions... hopes... in your heart long before they could ever be feasible, and then he takes them slowly and brings them to fullness, and smiling all the while reminds you that he did ordain... he even foretold it to your heart before you could have seen it.]
"For from days of old they have not heard or perceived by ear, Nor has the eye seen a God besides You, Who acts in behalf of the one who waits for Him."
| | |
| "i wanted to write something for you.
something brilliant... something that would be beautiful
I wanted to write something for you
that would tell you how much I love you
how much I miss you..."
"i wanted to tell you that i haven't forgotten
that i'm still watching
i wanted to write something
because, you see, i'm still waiting
and i want you to wait for me"
"i wanted to write something
i wanted to write something brilliant
i wanted to write something beautiful
something like you."
"i wanted to write something"
"but you see...
...i've forgotten how to bleed."
| | |
| Once upon a time, there was a boy. I didn't know him then... he was just a boy, and I was just a girl. Oceans apart, and worlds from knowing that somewhere across the universe we were both living lives that would lead us to meet. He was just boy. Brillant, but not exceptionally so. Driven, more than most, but with an ever ready smile that could light up a room... that is, it could if you were looking. He was a boy, and I was girl. A girl who was broken, and insecure. A girl who did not know her place and lived in pride. A girl who didn't know she had any worth. A girl believed in a fantasy for the hope that she could cling to something far better than the bitter taste reality.
We were exceptional, to be sure. We were unique, special... notable even. Yet we were hidden in the folds of our own deceptions, hidden in the cloth of a world that would seek to make everyone ordinary, a world denies that the very fact of being unique is no uniformity at all. We were just two, and we lived as two, oblivious that our lives could be lived any other way.
I was afraid that someone would find my name, and he was afraid that he'd never know mine. I was afraid that no one would ever find me, and he was afraid that he could never face me.
Truth be told, I was bit of a romantic sort of girl. Not the silly kind of romantic, who dreams of prince charming through her pink curtains and the safety of her sparkles, but rather the dangerous kind of romantic. The kind who lives a life dreaming of being Cinderella, and who spends so much time looking at the injustice that she forgets there ever was a prince, that she forgets there ever was hope.
He was a boy, and I was cynic. He was fighting for his life, and I was fighting for my sanity. He was being torn, and I was being wronged. And, still oblivious to each other, we lived. He, as a boy, and I, as a cynical girl.
But then something happened, of which I was not aware. The world changed, and something inside of us changed with it. We had found rhythm to share, though we knew it not. Hope was born... and it came as softly as the wind that heralds the first spring rain. It wove into our hearts like the threading harmony of grand symphony that would awaken life within us. It whispered, ever so softly, of the ground. It told us that the dirt was ready, the ground was soft, and it was time to plant. And though we little understood it, that wind brought the rain, and in stillness after the rain a great heaving came. And a great many things were born.
I was a girl, lost in a cynic, but then the cynic blew away with the winter weeds, and I went to search the girl again. For she was lost many years afore.
He was boy, but then he became a man.
And yet again, we walked our separate roads, and lived our separate lives. He was a man, and I was a girl.
That's when I heard it... a call, a call to the women, a call to Cinderella to find her prince, and I found myself to be a cynic again. I had walked this road before. In the end, Cinderella did not the marry prince, because she never had the courage to go to the ball, and the one time she did stand at his doorstep- he did not hear her calling. Despite myself, despite my doubt, I went to the ball, and I danced by myself. For as I predicted, there was no prince. He was not there. He could not be there.
Still, I danced.
And that is when I saw him. Or, more appropriately, he saw me. He had been a boy, and I had been a girl, but when I looked in his eyes I saw that it was no boy standing before me. Standing before me was a man. He was not a prince, he had no special aires, and would considered by some no better than a stable boy. But, you remember, his smile could light up a room. And as the love in his eyes spilled over my heart in wave of newness, I realized for the first time that no fantasy can compare to reality. I realized that for all the fairy tales in the world, even if you were to combine all together with all the trueness of love to be found therein, and unrelenting passion of those desperate hearts- a fairy tale would remain to be only a shadow.
Fairy tales, you see, are merely a reflection of what is real. Distorted, at best. And, naturally, we fall prey to their cunning vices in the hope that we too may stand in such valor, live with such honor, speak with such passion, and feel with such purity. What we fail to see, is that we are the stuff of fairy tales. We fail to recognize our own valor, our deep ridden honor, the passion of our tears, or the purity of the yearning ache within our inmost being.
No longer oblivious, I met his gaze for a mere fraction of second- and in that moment I caught a glimpse of the true image off of which all those reflections are cast. And the beauty of that depth, of that realness, and that endless faithfulness could never be matched by the counterfeit of those fairy tales that a certain cynical girl once fretted over night by night.
He was a boy, and I was a girl. And we knew naught of each other's existence.
He was a man, and I became a woman. And we found each other to be lovesick.
But as true fairy tales, this is fairy tale of limited proportions, a fairy tale which is yet incomplete. That stable boy hasn't really gotten down on his knee and confessed his undying love, nor have the stable boy and the farmer's daughter really learned what it means to love truly, to love well, and to love forever.... for pity's sake, they've barely spoken three words to each other...
Why, certainly you didn't think it was as simple as "And they all lived happily ever after..." Now did you?
The End.
[well, for now anyway....] | | |
| Hope and Waiting. Concepts that I am desperately trying to grasp and hold onto. How easy it is to cling to them when you know what the outcome is, and yet how similarily easy it is to let go at the first sign of something threatening in the path. How often I have tripped over a log, and suddenly thought that the direction of the road had miraculously changed. Yet, how could my misstep change the course of a timeless call? Hope it springs anew. The desire to be faithful, how deeply it courses through my mind. I desire to be faithful, as you were faithful- as you are faithful. I must admit that I do not even know how to be faithful in that way.
Am I paintbrush? Are you using me to spread color onto the page. Dreaming all the while that I will help you in creating a masterpiece? You could use any other brush, you could paint any painting. And yet, you choose me. My uneven taper, my coarse bristles, they do not change your opinion of me. I do not know how you do it, but then that is why I am only the paintbrush. I keep waiting and watching; seeing a bit more of the design you are painting. I've assumed so many things. Chosen so many different ideas of what I thought you were designing, only to suddenly be pulled away and taken somewhere completely different. You might think that I would stop assuming, stop thinking that I knew best, it would certainly make life a lot easier for all of us. Waiting. Waiting for Waiting to end. Waiting for Hope. Waiting for Life. Waiting for your Voice. The waiting can be easy, the waiting can be hard. Today its easy- tomorrow it's unbearable. The truth of the matter is I do not know where you are taking me. I am waiting, day by day and moment by moment, for you to show me where it is I will go. The funny things about this is that in the moment it also means I do not doubt. The dreams you have given me would be insanity to most, yet to me they are nothing. Certainly they are impossible. Yet, I have never doubted that they are from you. I have never doubted that somehow you will do these things. When I doubt it is because I don't know how you will show the others that you are calling me to this
It is a hard road, yet I am willing to walk it. Willing to follow to the ends of the earth no matter what. So, I wait for you. I wait for you to bring your promises to pass. I wait for you.
I wait for you...
| | |
|
+"?
^?s code at http://help.xanga.com/replacelinks.htm//-->
