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Hopefully no one will mind me posting some of my poetry on this blog. I am very into writing and poetry, so I try and write a lot. This is something I wrote today. The background to this piece is really just having faith and courage about what isn't known. Like, for instance, what lies on the other side of life. We don't know for sure, but we can have faith.

"She was holy that night,
She raised up her gun and turned the dark to light.
She painted the sky,
With everything missing from her life.

She went missing that night
She ran from the town and slipped right on her side.
And on the night she died
Jesus crept down the hall and brought her into the light.

You broke a pane of stained glass,
You broke your back when you fell through.

In a hospital bed
I had the faintest heart and the heaviest head
In a hospital bed
I learned who were my friends

On the night that she left
God spoke to me
He said,
"You've got to walk right through that door, Son.
You've got to wake up.
You've got to walk right through that door, Son."
I never want to wake up.

In a hospital bed,
Waiting for Jesus to come.
In my hospital bed,
Waiting for better days to come."

Yeah, it doesn't have much of a flow. So it probably reads very terribly. I hope someone likes it though.

Faith and Joy

Today, I had a very meaningful conversation with my father about Faith and what it really means to have Faith. It was struck up by some feelings I have had about my own faith-walk and such. Let me start off with recounting a dream I had today.

I really don't remember much of it, but what I do remember is vivid and stirring, at least to myself. I was in a room, seemingly alone. The walls were bare, and there were no windows but somehow dim light was coming in. Suddenly, things started shaking, I heard voices and laughter. I remember my father coming in to the room, and assuring me that there was a demonic presence in the room. I called out to it, telling it to come forward. It stopped, then cackled a little bit more. Then - I heard a voice. Someone, be it myself or some other disembodied speaker, was telling me not to give up. Not to lose Faith. To be strong, because God would protect me. I then woke up.

I was moved to tears when I awoke. Maybe I was crying out of fear, or maybe I was crying because of the reassuring voice telling me things were going to be fine. It really got me thinking about my faith-walk and how I'm not where I'd like to be. And that prompted the discussion with my Dad.

Please excuse that long and personal segue into what I really want to talk about. Hopefully this one will reach out to more people than me telling you about my dream could.

Faith is a boulder. It's strong and cannot be moved or shaken. This is the conclusion we came to. Once you have it, it shouldn't leave you. But it's only when you really achieve it. That's what I've been worried about. How do you know when you actually achieve it? I once thought I did, and I now know I haven't. But I think you would really be able to tell when you have it. It's like the difference between happiness and joy - one is fleeting, but feels nice and cozy, and the other one offers peace, but takes time and effort. A lot of time and effort most Christians don't seem to want to give. God is looking to see if we'll put in that time and effort, not looking to see how many good deeds we've done so we can buy our golden pass to heaven. Really, a big piece of this is just Faith.

My brain is rather scattered right now, and this probably makes no sense at all. But it was another ghost weighing on my heart. This was also meant in no way as being evangelistic. I believe there are people to do that sort of thing, and that does not include me.

The Writer's Worst Enemy

I think that the writer's worst enemy is themselves. I know that's the way it is for me. Everything that a writer deals with is all rooted in his or herself. Writer's block especially. If the writer could just let himself go and write what comes to him instead of processing every word, every line, every thought through countless filters. Will it be good enough? Does it rhyme? Does it compare to all of my greatest heroes? A line from a pmtoday song says it best, "I can write whatever I please." You can write whatever you want, and make it anyway you want. People are just too afraid of themselves, myself included, to let out their thoughts and musings.

It's terrible. It aches after a while, with all the ideals and sentiments that are left unsaid. Eventually they'll just fall away. I am one of the worst offenders. I never think anything I write is good, and I critique myself so far to where I can't get two lines into something before giving up. Out of fear. I know it's much simpler than I make it, I'm just too young and immature to let myself write. One day I'll grow up and write again.