I do not know the path before me,
Or which way it goes.
Only that one is full of hardship,
And the other; no one knows.

There is One who goes before me,
There is One who knows,
But He keeps to Himself
Which direction the future flows.

Prayer and failure come hand in hand,
As does peace and storm,
But I only wish to see the horizon
And view its shape and form.

I see I must fight, plan, and work
Much more than I thought.
In order to maintain a gift given,
that which was bought.

My heart troubles me
Only as long as I let it.
As I sift through its lies,
And seek while trying not to sweat it.

I die to live,
Not live to die.
I sacrifice and give,
As I try to fly.

Now I decide
How to live in this gift.
Now I determine
How to die in this Present.

This ink on my Arm:
Lept from the page;

As I endured:
Love, death, and pain;

Because my Father gave me:
Life, Peace, and Rain;

On a Date:
09-27-17.

As servants we commend ourselves in every way:

In great endurance;
In troubles, hardships, and distresses;
In beatings, imprisonments, and riots;
In hard work, sleepless nights, and hunger;

In enduring purity;
In understanding, patience, and kindness;
In Spirit, sincere love, and truthful speech;
In wisdom, maturity, and knowledge;

With weapons of righteousness in our right hand,
And in our left;

Through glory and dishonor,
Bad report and good report;

We are:
Genuine, yet regarded as impostors;
Known, yet regarded as unknown;
Dying, and yet we live on;
Beaten, and yet not killed;
Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing;
Poor, yet making many rich;
Having nothing, and yet possessing everything.

We serve and sacrifice;
Forcefully advancing the kingdom;
Where we have been given the gift of entry.

I see a familiar face,
Yet it is not mine.

My face is like a clock,
Each second revealing its true nature.

This one is more like a mountain,
With a depth and fierceness unknown to me.

Do not worry about your life,
Or what you will eat,
Or what you will drink,
Or about your body,
Or what you will wear.
Is life not more than food?
And the body more than clothes?

Look at the birds of the air.
They do not plant or harvest or store away in barns,
And yet they never lack anything to eat.
Are you not much more valuable than they?

Can you add a single hour to your life by worrying?

And why do you worry about clothes?
Look at the sunset in the sky,
It does not work or mend,
Yet not even the finest apparel can match its beauty.

If that’s how the sky is painted,
Which is here a moment and is lost to time in the next,
Will you not be clothed in even greater majesty?
You who cannot even see past the horizon?

So do not worry about:
What you will eat,
Or what you will drink,
Or what you will wear.
For men run after all these things,
And get lost in greed and emptiness.

But instead seek first:
Truth;
And Love;
And the Well Being of others.
Then you will never be lacking in anything you need.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow,
For tomorrow will worry about itself.
For each day has enough trouble of its own.

Fail and fail again,
Fail ever forward,

Success?
Accomplished?

What has man ever done on his own?
What idea was ever built on nothing but itself?

Change is built on a network of time, energy, and sacrifice.
The only true way to fail, is to quit.

Giving up is the end,
Preventing the continual effort towards the future, is its death.


Tomorrow is not promised,
The present is not honest,

Each day is a gift,
Do not get lost in the shift,

The past is a treasure of wisdom to be gleamed,
But it is not as simple as it was dreamed.

Sleep is not the end,
Only a turn around the bend,

Sleep is a comforting daily death,
While fear of something eternal takes away breath.


To have work to do is a man’s success,
To complete it is his death,

To grow and stretch and refine is his task,
To eat and drink and work is his joy.


Each day has enough trouble of its own,
So the challenges of today become the success of tomorrow.

Things are proved by the testing of time,
So then Man, is also.

Step by Step,
The Future becomes the Past,
The Trial becomes Wisdom,
The Impossible becomes Reality,

All when Perseverance finishes its work.

I am trapped,
I can't nap.

I would like to fly,
Up in the sky,
With the birds,
Or in a herd,
Of sly gazelle,
Who cannot tell,
If their blank cell,
Is crafted by their jailer,
Or if they are the tailor.

The smell engulfing,
I want to die,
I cannot breathe,
Or think,
Or stand,
Or sit,
Or lie.

I am trapped,
In my body,
And my mind.

I feel as if,
We will never arrive.

If I die before the end,
And others live on,
To journey on,
Until the adventure ends,
Which then is the true end,
To an ambling existence?

Which side shall I awake upon?
A mortal march towards death,
Or an immortal stroll through eternity?

A place within Light where Darkness lives,
Amongst a Fate that takes, exists an Anomaly that gives.
A portal from Life to existence beyond Death,
Along a Journey that claims man’s last breaths.
A power of magnitude that surpasses infinity.
Somewhere amongst Holy divinity.

A Man fraught with Sorrow,
A Being tortured by Memory,
A Warrior abandoned by the Fallen,
Haunted by what had befallen.

A Sword meant to ****,
A Weapon sharpened to make men still.
A Tool created to protect,
By claiming lives in ways men cannot detect.

A Cowl that covers and hides,
A Hood that casts shadows and lies,
A Veil that enshrouds and denies,
So He can conceal his knives.

A Mask capable of engulfing identity,
A Barrier empowered to separate him from enemies.
A Facade designed to warp their perceptions,
In order to fulfill a scheme of deceptions.

A flash of blades and a wisp of darkness,
Remain the calling cards of the heartless.

Gold and Treasure,
Power and Magic,
The draws of Man that make him tragic.
  
Keeps and Castles,
Woods and Mountains,
Places full of Dangers and Fountains.

Books full of tasking Riddles,
Complemented by Quandaries of Fiddles.  
Practice Swords and ensuing Bruises,
Unfair Flurries and Flashes an Apprentice Muses.

Time turned to Strength,
Time turned to Power,
Forces called forth that make men Cower.

Each step recorded in History,
Each word captured in Tune,
As the Shadow emerges along with a Rune.

He was depressed,
He was alone,
His eyes were a window to his soul.

His face scarred red,
His skin rounded,
He feared the eyes around him.

He thought he loved,
He sought for silent clues,
His silence masked maddening hues.
  
His friends around him,
His stuff in trees,
He feared loss when bullied.

He hid his anxiety,
He contained his fear,
His hate for showing up to purgatory remained in here.

His faith faltering,
His feet slipping,
He stumbled through the dark searching for something.

He wanted acceptance,
He wanted a friend,
His steel walls would not let them in.

Fat, weak, slow,
Ugly, stupid, selfish,
His thoughts echoed his perception of himself.

Until he was answered.

An ultimatum,
A friend,
An answer.

Now these things are behind me.

Breath and Life,
Beauty in Green.
Brought up from Dirt,
Into majestic Purity.

Droplet by Droplet,

I pause to Guard my Ink,
As the stream from above,
Lulls me to sleep.

It covers my surroundings,
In a dew of dreams,
As I admire its Truth and Levity.
  
Heavy Rain reveals its secret,
Hidden within the Mist.
Miniature Worlds greater than our own,
Where I tend to find my Home.

Drifting in thought,
Exploring new lands.
Step by Step,
In Soil anew,
I place my Flag.

I Conquer and Claim,
Unraveling Time and Space.
So my pen can stroke,
Lands of ash and smoke.

Or clouds and seas,
Birds and Bees.

And in the end,
My pen obeys,
Whatever the commands of a spy,
The fancy of my Mind’s Eye.

A Man killing in the name of Justice
A Brother slaying another in Self-defense
A Son firing a round into an intruder in Fear
A Nephew taking up a sword for his Country
An Uncle giving up a criminal to the Authorities
A Grandfather using his cane in response to Violence

A Need for
Power, Money, Fame.
A Response of
******, Theft, Oppression.
  
A Need for
Justice, Vengeance, Retribution.
A Response of
Judgement, Violence, Restitution.

Two sides of the same coin?
Who is the villain?
If both are the victims of the other,
Who is Guilty?
What then is Justice?
Who shall decide?
You?
Will You be the one to throw the first stone?

Do Good and Evil,
Equate to Yin and Yang?
Balanced forces of Light and Dark.

Or,
Is Evil apparent and easily discerned from Good?
Contrasts of Black and White.

If Neither, Nor,
Do they mix into a swirl of indecision?
A mess of self-righteous Grey.
  
What if it is my own life I sacrifice?
What if I am the one taking the bullet?
Not in a suicidal attempt or mission,
But instead in protection of Good.

Am I the Villain for causing my ******?
Is the intended Victim the Villain for being targeted?
Are the Witnesses guilty for not acting?
Are You guilty for being unaware?

History is written by the Victors,
So do they command Justice?
  
Does History demand the mantle,
Of deciding Right from Wrong?
Everything unsure in the Present,
Until the Future decides.

If You name me the Villain,
I’ll wear it in Red,
Speak in Riddles,
And break the Rules.

But if I name You the Villain,
Would You do the same?

You tear us apart,
so we come together.

You say not enough,
and we ask how much.

You lie to us,
so we distrust ourselves.

You claim we are nothing new,
and we search for flaws.

You say you are nice,
so we turn the other way.

You pile more on,
and we stumble under stress.

You force failure upon us,
so we accept the guilt.

I do not accept this.
I will not stand for You any longer.

Your actions are unacceptable.
Your actions are immoral.

I will summon change.
I am going to destroy the status quo.


Your world will change.
And I will be there to watch you Fall.

I have lived as the black sheep.
I have conformed, and I have said “Yes, Sir.”

You point at me and say “Privileged,”
You play the victim and blame me because I am different.

I will not stand for “Entitlement,”
I have made the climb to where I am, but will not also make it for You.

You are afraid of Me,
so you put me in the box.


I now falter under the weight,
I struggle under the stress that controls me.

If Balance is broken,
then the Chaos will reveal itself.

I am not Chaos,
I am Change.

I am not a black sheep,
I Am.

A Cliff, a Chasm, or an Abyss?
No. A small Step.
I see a kingdom before me
With Insurmountable walls,
Uncounterable Guardians,
And an Un-Defyable Tongue.

Words capable of stopping a sword,
Words able to move hearts,
Words that capture minds.

Dust to dust,
My walls and kingdom shall fall,
In Time.

But, my Words,
Where shall they go?
Changed, Shifted, Stolen,
Truth to Myth to Legend.

What then is the purpose of the Soul?
Not like the wind, it holds weight.
Some have a price, others do not.
A beginning, an End, a Question,
Up or Down?

Darkness. Doubt. Depression.
Sin that is forgiven leaves Scars.
A Double-Edged Sword,
With no Victor.

Up and Down,
Around and Around,
We choose to Spin.
A shift, a movement, a Change,
And we fight.

Freedom, Right, Law, Justice,
Justifications for Enslavement of the Mind.
Inequality, Discrimination, Unfairness,
Differences used for Victimization.

Power, Money, Greed, Selfishness,
The Root of All Evil?
Or is it Me?
Who Am I?

Who are You?
Are you not me?
Identity found in Nothing,
Creates an unfillable Void.

Loving from afar, within our minds.
Interacting with only our clones.
Finding qualities that agree with our disposition.
Entertaining each other to distract from our lives.

I am night, a knight.
I am darkness, eternal.
I am keen, too sharp.
I am immortal, but shapeless.
I am ruler, without power.
I am omnipresent, nowhere.
I am all, yet none.
I am death, an angel.

Am I honorable?
Am I evil?
Am I dangerous?
Am I existing?
Am I supervisor?
Am I present?
Am I anything?
Am I alive?

He is pride.
He exists enshrouded.
He cuts deep.
He outlives all.
He has control.
He follows everywhere.
He remains hidden.
He takes life.

I am a mask.
He is my cloak.
I am life.
He is the shadow of my mind.