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)
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.
It was a cold lifeless day
As a life was laid to rest;
And the hollow air swelled and swayed
Upon the empty hour of death;
His soul wept and ached in despair
As he lay in the silent unknown;
For his thoughts were only of her
As his heart died alone.
VIEW the POST
Ode to a beauty I once knew,
Who was a woman full of class,
Revealing nothing through
But, her beauty did embrace me one time,
Through her eyes;
And I came running,
As one inexperienced in loving.
VIEW the POST
Oh, lovely lady whom I met
One fateful night.
Although I knew you long ago
It’s in your presence
Where my dream rests tonight.
Becoming lost in recollection
I dreamt as one dreaming with no direction,
Until you appeared to the artist
And he struck the canvas with perfection.
It’s there that you were placed
Alongside two faceless men,
Who look like dogs begging for attention.
Yet, you remain the focus ...
Seven times I died before winter’s end.
Eyes accustomed to weeping through the night
Thinking thoughts about the loss;
And longing to belong
To the air you breathe one more time;
But I am wholly unworthy
VIEW the POST
I set aside a season for my love
And a garden to remember her by;
So that upon the chime of the new moon
My dear love would arrive.
Oh, where has the time gone,
Since last she did pass?
I have been lost for so long,
And so long, lost in the past -
Leaving me wounded from the years
Of a time lived without her love
My war–torn ...
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.