The wind off the ocean reaches inland carrying a thought for me. Some say epiphany, some dont believe.
Without direction it is a burden that's fire is dwindeling. I scatter to find twig's that gather the heats intensity.
I have spoken to soon to see it's light burn out to see the light veer away from my feet.
I counted my egg's before they hatched. But I did not count the cost.
I blame everyone and everything but me.
I can see the road ahead of me. I try to make adjustments so I can be ready. I breathe slower to get a fast beating heart steady.
The rocks slide sweeping the ground from beneath me; carring me over a tune in the pattering of my fingers.
The water in the poison dollutes the pain from the stingers.
The pace of the tone hits a pause followed by pounding of the keys dangaling from theyre stringers.
I am unequivacly astonished by the clarity of my sight in the breath of the moments leading after. My body tenses up. After all who could be prepared for this fall. I am gettimg to the point. Im not trying to pad the time or trying to stall.
I have came so far. So I can again. But this is not some story..My life could seriously end. I go back and forth until I come back to the moment that lead me to where and when.
Head first, I going over the deep end. I am tip towing over the glass shards of where I began.
Flashes of memories and aspiration from yearning within. Zero to sixty taking my second, third and fourth chances over and failing again.
Suspended in the air and this is what I bargain with.
The moment ends and all the noise and stimulation comes to a sudden end. I notice I am still in my car on the shoulder with hazards blinking. Did I black out again?
The road ahead me washes away collapsing to a crack several feet away.
I am still here.
Where do I even begin?
Premonition sci-fi short series
Who would of thought that a cheesy movie could reveal how I feel for you. That a scripted revelation could make me want to love you like a fascinated imagination could paint a tale of how I should feel about you. I am so intangled in the emotional webb that has me going through the details of the past and present indicnation of what that could mean for me and you.
Let me be brief but explicit in the explanation that I have for you.
You are determined to make a life for you but I am determined to reveal that here with me is a life that could be made into. A spirited fascit of the embodied truth that could be clay and sculpted into the life you have always dreamed; not a imaginarey tale but a story about two. Who took what they were given and made it into a life that could be grounded in reality and a life that could be given an adhesive glue to stick together through all the opstacles you seem to struggle through.
I am not a knight and shining armour but I promise to be enough for you. I could be the one to go to when the world outside becomes vague and you need intrigue to intrest you. To be an ear to listnen but also a punching bag to let all your anger out into.
To be the first chorus to play when your first verse exhaust the first que.
I cannot begin to imagine what it is that your going through. But I would love to be the man your willing to run too.
I am not as close as I would want to be. I look around me and I have everything I need. The lightness of my steps is not light enough for a gentile humiliation worth notoriety. The perception through my gaze is not the sight I want to see. The intentions of my touch is not the action I wanted you to see.
I look again at myself this is not who I want to be. Scars and strife belittle the narration of the overarching story.
It doesnt give you the intimate details that took me from where I was to the me you now see. It doesnt say where I am and where I am going.
I dig in my heels and set my sight forward. That was behind me will try to remind me but I will pay little attention as I quicken my pace abrubtly.
Rembrants impression on a zimmer symphony has as much inspiration as it allows to be. As I have as much ambition as I have allowed myself to be. My discipline is as un-organized as a branch fractal to scatter it's leaves.
My euphanisms are as practical as you have empathy. My mind is as deep as an infants reach. My nostalgia is littered with grief. Every time the wind blows you see a different side of me.
I am for every cause and yet I spend little to no time perfecting the flaws in me. I will put on a show just so you side with me. I will justify so long as its not revealing a deeper truth about me.
I have all the time and money and yet I am not free. I am loved by many and yet not truly known except by those who are close or my family. I have pretended for so long I donot remember who I am besides thats the part I find most disgusting. I am ashamed of who I am so I put up a fasad of who I want you to see.
I am an attention ***** and you spend all your time and money being entertained by me.
Spare us the lecture and work on yourself.
What is it that keeps me going? What is it on my face that keeps me from showing? The wind rushes through me and keeps me from slowing.
There is a knoledge inside that honestly keeps me from knowing. There is a drive inside that keeps me going.
I am not sad and yet I am not happy.
And sadly there is no definition to define my state of mind but I would gladly let you peer inside.
There is no certainty that anyone reading this would care but it doesnt stop me from stripping myself bare.
I am often distracted by the calamity outside my door and it is certainly something I wish I could ignore. But here I am beating against it like the waves constantly keep beating against the shore.
I wake the day with folding hands. I strive everday to be a better man. But I am this wretchedness wondering through life without a plan.
It has been along time since I have expressed how I feel. I have put off my feelings because they dont look good on me. And still I circle back like a wagon wheel.
I hear the rythm and I assimulate it in my soul. I pretend I am the only one to make myself feel whole. I am like stagnate water forced to roll.
This is the part of me only my readers will see me show. The corpse covered in make up to conceal the man I am. The man I only know.
My eyes are desperate to see the end. A memory of mine is carried over a warm wind. My love for you with out stretched hands. The comfort of your voice within. Your Atoning grace decends.
A white robe draping over my sin. A loving father who attentively attends my every heart ache. Your mercy is the water that washes over the rustled sand; smoothing the surface once again and again.
I am nothing without you. You are my muse. You are my refuge I hide out in your caverns and donot pretend. I can only profess your goodness over me.
With your strength I am able to stand.
The night comes and the moonlight cascades over the clouds pouring down onto the waters that wash me once again.
You are not just my father you are my dear friend. There are no endearing enchantments or lies that can convince me otherwise. You are the beginning and the end.
The morning arrives in glory and your splendor shines down on me again.
My attention is wavered but you still stand where you stand. I make mistakes and you keep your promise to cleanse me again and again. You pick me up and guide me through the peril I find myself in.
The most faitfull and forgiving could not amount to your love. You always find me and set me on my way to follow you with your loving hands.
There is no debate to be had when a relationship is my reality and sin is sin. I am grateful you love me and you gave me your best so I can know look forward to the end.
Everyday God pursues me and everyday I learn more about the creator that gave everything to have a relationship with me.
A sword beaten by steel hammers and forged in the fire. The arrow thats pulled back before it is sent into the whiles. A collection of hardship and reprove to understand a time.
Where as demons and angels influence all but stagger a man's walk on a thin wire.
A breathe of resiliance and stubborn heart thats entitled to what He think's he deserves until He knows the truth and his speech is soured.
Egregious revalation to what he has done. He has offended the Creator. He has crucified His son. A confession is made and the war is won but the battle for submission is nearly but one.
A sanctification is initiated and a process is begun. This man's action's and word's are revealed by the sun.
The work that takes place is a tedious and time consuming one but the man's character is revealed to himself and to everyone.
He stuggles to find himself and align himself in the will of God. He yearn's for purpose and does'nt see that each moment is purpose that each exchange matter's. Everything is considered in everything he does.
God enables his obediance when God is often sought. This man comes to find that more often it is not. It is a miracle and blessing he has made it this far. More mercy has been offered than one might oblige. More forgiveness and patience. It is a miracle this man has not died.
Our protagonist finally makes it to the frontline. Where he is not perfect but God's will is pursued. This man speak's out and into open air. Where devils and vipers gather like moths to a flare. They come one by one. Collecting like froth on a stagnant bank. They come to hear this man speak but they're heart's are anything but blank.
His words shoot like arrow's never missing thier mark. He uses The Word as a sword slashing every falsehood, piercing every heart.
He continues through the day into evening's dark. There is but one that stayed. There is but one man among them that get's a new start. So the cycle is transfered but the job is not done. The wars is won but the battle is not just one.
A journey of a man from sinner to priesthood. 2 cycle's broken and 2 cycles created.