You are inside that shut doors,
And I am waiting for you to come out.
You just slammed the doors just like everybody else.
Is being so foolish a crime.
I know I'm not that clever
but please for God sake don't leave apart.
I wish I could be so clever that nobody left me ever.
But the hard truth lies beneath the walls
finding everybody better.
Don't leave people,
I can't bear the lonely truth from far!
You are standing
on a great, grassy
field as far as your eyes
can see. The ground
is firm, there is a peaceful
wind in the air
gently rustling your hair.
This is not what you expected.
You had anticipated
a thud on the wall
that sounds like someone's
skull is being hit by
the house phone!
the field is
the serene place,
that is childhood.
It is an illusion.
It never existed.
life is like
a phone line
for an answer
we look for a giver
but have we just
been our own
who may be at the other end?
what lies before us?
the harsh unknown
and its unseething silence
thumping as its own
will we continue to wait
for life's last ring
to make its final heartbeat?
You look to the clock and wait for the bell
Work set aside for thoughts of tomorrow
Unable to endure the rest of this class
You view high school as the dark tunnel of your youth
And ask if there's a light at the end
You lose the purpose among other things
Though constantly haunted by reminders of grades
Taken over by stress
And eaten away by uncertainty
Forced to test your comedic abilities
You are built with the power of strength
And each day you grow in these attributes
Maximize your potential
Take weaknesses to your advantage
Now, you look to the clock and wait
Wait for the future you shaped in this class
In John Green’s book “Paper Towns”, the main character believes that every person gets a miracle. A single miracle, a gift to you, possibly from God, that allows you to feel like you might actually be a lucky human being for once.
But this statement is not true. Because everybody in this world doesn’t get “one miracle”. I mean sure, you can get one miracle, but that doesn’t have to be it. You could get millions of miracles if you were just a little more patient. If you waited just a little longer.
Miracles can come in different shapes and sizes, different people, different amounts of money, different words, or sights, or stars. You, yourself can be your own miracle.
I believe that every friend I’ve ever had is a miracle to me, every song I write, every word I speak, I am shouting miracles at you, even if you’re at the back of the room my voice will make it to you if you just wait a little longer to hear it.
Some miracles happen more than once, like a boomerang coming back to you, you keep getting something and you pray as hard as you can that every miracle you ever got comes back to you.
And every boomerang will come back to its thrower if you just wait a while.
Now if your miracle is a person, you must be willing to be the most patient you’ve ever been in your life. Because people will change direction, this boomerang sometimes decides it wants to take control of its path before it comes back, and it will come back. Just wait a little longer – Just wait – because if you leave you won’t be there to catch a miracle you knew the joy of having.
God has sent me so many people. So many boomerang miracles, and I’ve been waiting for too long. But nothing can move me, I am rooted to where I stand, I will wait for as long as it takes for my person, for my miracle to make it back to me.
Sometimes I doubt. I consider walking away, and maybe somebody else can catch my miracle, and call it their own. But if I believe that God sent you to me. And I’m the one walking away, then maybe I’m the next boomerang, but I promise I’ll make it back to you – this is all I know how to do. I have been waiting, for so long...
Please God, I need these people to come back to me. They mean so much to me, more than they will ever know.
So I wait, and I will keep waiting, until God sends you, one of my many miracles, back to me.
she sits impatiently,
waiting in a room she knows
is the only one safe for her to
she taps out morse code
cries for help with her feet,
rolling her fingers around
the long, browning leaves
of house plants,
breaking their necks.
Sometimes, when the deepest recesses of my soul are missing you, I wish I could hold you.
I wish I could hold you.
I wish I could hold you- like the last flicker of candlelight on a dark nostalgic night... like I wish I could hold the last rays of sun at the end of a perfect day... like I wish I could hold all the pieces of pure joy that melt through my fingers when I think of you.
I wish I could hold you and the harder I try the further you feel. I wish I could hold you and I wonder if I could ever hold onto you and some piece of your soul so tightly you couldn't be anyone else's but mine.
Then, that is when I feel like I'm losing the last moments of light, and I wonder if you will come again-
like the morning,
like the day,
like the candlelight...
Or whether I will lose you for trying and be plunged into the deepest night.