On top of Mt. Bonnell this morning,
Before the sun arose
I watched the red lights of warning
Atop the tall metal poles.

As if playing music together
Each gave bursts of light,
Through the foggy weather,
And played a visual song at night.

They all appear to blink
At the same rate as the next,
But as I took a drink
I saw that it was more complex.

Each with different tempos
The poles played along
And with subtle crescendos,
They blink their song.

Outside the windows I see
Some powerful force
That moves the tall trees
And through it the birds fly their course.

Although we can not see the wind
We can feel it around us
Although we sing beautiful hymns,
We can not fully describe this.

The wind moves us like nothing else,
The Holy Spirit moves us like nothing else.

They run and run and run
It seems, with little time to feel the sun
And yet, what they have begun
Is something that can easily be undone.

Dodging the trees here and there
They run through this thick and heavy air.
An end to this overgrown forest do they give silent prayer
But little do they know that they’re on the path to despair.

They hide from the sun’s bright
For they know not of its delight,
And instead they run to the darkness on the right
Thinking they will find some light.

However, their path is crooked and steep
As they run through the forest deep.
They are like lost sheep
Not realizing they need to awake from their sleep.

They see others running passed the trees
Dodging them with ease.
They wonder what makes the others so pleased
To be running through this breeze.

The others also fall down,
But they get back up and help those around.
While they run through darkness abound,
The others run through bright clearings round.

We were surely made to need each other.
To mentally crave company.
We were made to love each other,
To talk to somebody.

We can not do this alone.
Or we will go insane.
We can't just not be known,
And think we can ourselves sustain.

We were made to trade words,
To be with somebody.
To sing like birds.
And to accompany.

We were surely made to share our lives.
We were surely made to live our lives

Together.

I sit and eat my sandwich
Under a tree shading me from the sun.
A few pass me by on the path less traveled
Yet a path more beautiful

A fly wants my sandwich and my water
And I wave my hand and send him off.
But he persists.
Finally I give him a piece of lettuce and then a piece of *******.
He absolutely loves it, walking all over and ******* the water.

He thanks me as he crawls on my arm.
And goes back for another bite.

I write this poem and he looks on from my had,
As if rejoicing in the fact that he is noticed.
He circles and walks around, watching me write.

He thanks me again and takes flight.

Love
That feeling of always wanting to be around them.
Love
that feeling of waiting to see them, touch them, hear them.
Love
Knowing that theres something there but you cant point it out.
Love
wanting to not live with any doubt.
Love
Realizing that you cant have them pulls your heart strings out.
Hate
Feeling the pain that follows their actions.
Hate
Always trying to impress someone.
Hate
Being yourself and not being accepted.
Hate
Knowing what they could be thinking.
Hate
Finishing poems that have a special meaning.

listening to frogs sing their song as if they practice for a big performance,

watching the lone duck swim in silence like a monk on an evening stroll

smelling the night breeze that drifted across the small lake to my nose as if it was meant to

feeling the wind that moves like a bride during her first dance with her husband

praying with all my broken heart that a relationship with her is God's will for us.