Originally published in 2004 the poem "A Whisper to the Night" has been completely reinvented. Arguably one of my best poems this new version creates a more complete narrative that the original could only hint toward.
A whisper to the night;
The river speaks.
Its moving streams move out of sight
Flowing into the deep, deep night.
The moonlit reflection moves
Across a shallow surface.
And the ...
It will happen on a night like this
When the stars dangle precariously from strings
Into a black ether.
When an unobstructed moon
Slowly wanes across a star-filled sky;
On that night I will whisper
“Be careful of the stars”
And my words will follow you as you travel.
(No matter where you are)
Where is the air, I cannot breathe?
The weight of this world is too heavy.
It’s a suffocating frenzy
Of people in need.
Like the King, my name will be upon the lips of many -
a flaming arrow that will blister the ears of those unwilling to hear.
No matter how far or near
They are our enemy.
When I cannot breathe, I cannot speak
But my ...
I hesitated on posting this poem. However, I have decided to post it because depression is a real and serious condition. If you or a loved one are struggling with thoughts of harming yourself or others please contact the national suicide prevention line. They will connect you with a professional immediately.
Call anytime 24/7: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
or visit their website: http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
As dark ...
It’s lonely getting lost
In the dense forest of life,
(Which I often do)
Anytime I wander through.
No matter how hard or long I try
The paths I have chosen are rarely right.
And so I am left wandering all night
Among trees that always seem the same.
The sun, which once guided me
Is now shrouded by an overgrown canopy;
It’s light, no brighter
Than a dancing candlelight’s desperate ...
This might be best categorized as an experimental poem. A very raw impromptu work with very little editing and forethought. These thoughts are more like a journal entry, as they simply came to mind while listening to the Christmas song O Holy Night.
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How does one say "I love you", to someone who is incredibly special to you. Simple words seem to fall back upon me as dew on the grass.
Cindy and I are very unconventional people and so doing something conventional would lack sufficient meaning for us. Two years ago I began thinking about this moment. Why? It's simple. For some time ...
He holds a gentle yet firm grasp
Of the soul.
He teaches you how to grow
Up, and get old.
He teaches you how to work…
How to love…
How to do what is right;
Simply by the way he lives his life.
He is a shelter from the storm,
And your blanket during the winter cold.
His voice is both firm and soft
And his word is always his bond.
Oh, how I love a Sunday afternoon nap in early spring.
When the brisk breeze broaches the threshold of the window screen.
And laying my head upon the cool pillow
Betrays the intent of this beautiful day.
As the season breaths on me
I begin inhaling the fresh purified air
Setting my lungs free
And putting my body at ease
Allowing my mind to wander and dream.
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What matters is to find a purpose, to see what it really is that God wills that I shall do; the crucial thing is to find a truth which is truth for me, to find the idea for which I am willing to live and die.
Any man can make a mistake but only a fool persists in his error.
In religious belief as elsewhere, we must take our chances, recognizing that we could be wrong, dreadfully wrong. There are no guarantees; the religious life is a venture; foolish and debilitating error is a permanent possibility. (If we can be wrong, however, we can also be right.)
I am a Christian, not because someone explained the nuts and bolts of Christianity, but because there were people willing to be nuts and bolts.