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.

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.

So often at this time of year we hear
What some never have the chance to say.
"If I only had that grade, then life would be clear"
And we forget that many could only dream of that day.

They dream of the day they could go to school
While we whine about our 89.999999's
They pray for the money to become a jewel
While we whine about our lack of Bevo bucks for Starbucks.

"Please Lord! If I could only get an A." I just heard
From the girl to my right, talking to her friend.
Which makes me wonder what I'd prefer;
To whine over what I don't have, or to rejoice in what's far more important in the end.

She says "I wish I had an A."
While I am no better, "I wish I was passing."
While the little boy says "I wish I could get a career someday."
Which brings my mind crashing.

I count the honks of a car..
A lamp post out the window.
I stare at out into the dark.
Seventeen times.

The students walk by making sound.
The sound crescendos,
As if they are playing music with the ground.
And then it stops.

College students walk outside
And laugh with each other.
By the lamp post's guide
They walk into the dark.

I feel empty without a close friend,
That one guy to be close too.
It's as if I am suspended,
Waiting for him to come.

People drain me in large numbers.
I need more time by myself than with them,
But what I wonder
Is if I've already met him.

A sound in the ceiling.
This library is old.
It sounds like it needs healing.
And then it stops.

How long will I live
Without a close friend?
My feet rest on the chair
And I breathe in the still air.

A girl walks near by
And asks me, a lonely guy,
If I'd seen her ID.
"No, sorry. I haven't."

I hope she has a good night.

We turn the corner as we walk to our rooms,
When we see a figure at the end of the hall.
We think that they will turn to the stairs soon,
But we find that this isn't true at all.
The closer we become, the more awkward it gets.
We try to play it cool and look at our phones,
Knowing full well, we don't have no texts.
We think "It'd be better if I weren't alone."
When all of a sudden, as we walk even closer,
We remember the fountain; a savior at last!
Now we can end this jousting match with this poser.
And just act like we're thirsty real fast.
"I'll just drink here and wait for them to pass.
While in the small hallway, they have to walk around my ***."

Someday I'll have my own drum set,
Someday I'll have my own djembe.
But for now, I shouldn't forget,
That I don't necessarily need drums to play.
My own two hands are all I need,
And maybe some legs, a chest, or table,
'Cause all you require is a seed
A seed of God's joy to make you grateful.
It's the Lord I should delight in.
Not the things I lack,
Who needs drums
When I can snap, clap and tap?
Someday I'll have my own "man cave"
Someday I'll have drums galore.
But today I have the Lord who saves!
Today I can praise Him with what I got once more.

Children joyfully play off in the distance
While birds sing their songs all around.
They know no resistance
To the beauty of nature. And so they make sound.

The children, the birds,
They have no concerns.
They know not of how this world is absurd.
It's true; what Wordsworth wants us to learn.

That something as simple and precious as this moth,
Does not receive the attention due to its worth
That we feel too "busy" to be one with the wild
Too busy to live like a child.

We're told we will live forever.
     I am like the moth in a way.
          This moth is slowly dying and will soon fade.
But our lives are short however.
     For we both are in constant decay.
          And so we admire each other, both as moths, together dying in the shade.

Alarms begin to ring,
Birds are not yet awake to sing.
The room begins to wake,
So that showers they can take.

Back to the deer I remember
Back when I was a member
Of that church I thought I’d never leave,
That church which I couldn't think to leave.

The lights turn on now.
People walk around with their towels.
One light can’t decide to be on or off,
As if to deliberately destroy this morning so soft.

The girls laugh as they get up to ***.
I think I’ll now turn to Isaiah to read.

I sit by the window as I read,
For nature I need to see.
I stretch my arm to the sun's warm heat, Only for a cloud to make the warmth recede.

I look out to the trees,
Hoping to see some life.
It helps to see the trees,
But it hurts to see the towers which above them rise.

Nature I need to remain sane, For these man-made walls mock me. Without nature I am in pain, Within a building I am ashamed.

If only I made time to reconnect with it, That I might in overwhelming peace pray. Then, then I'd be able to omit,
The voice that says "You have to read today."

Often in the corner of our screens we look,
For love from others we seek.
Notifications come flooding in on Facebook,
After we post the usual critique or picture of our physique.

"You look so cute!" the girls want to hear us say
While the guys, "**** dude you were so wasted last night!" makes them feel accepted.
"So and so is going to this event. Why aren't you?" Facebook says; "Display!"
We fear if we don't, we'll not feel connected.

"I can quit whenever I want to."  we say.
Really? I'd like to see you try just one day.
"But my friends need to know what I'm doing and-"
No. Take your mind off the screen and instead lend a helping hand.

I fear the future;
What my offspring will be exposed to,
That instead of encouragement to have adventure,
They will be even more addicted, their faces to the screen ever more glued.

I grew up playing in the dirt out back,
Now, I am told that it's "friends" I lack.
With my brother I played,
We'd sit and drink lemonade.
Now at night I sit in a dark room,
Wearing an online costume.

I hope that instead I will be myself
And not have to prove myself
To the world that I am unique,
That instead I can make shine what was bleak.

I grew up with Legos. You could say, I was "addicted,"
But now by this computer I have been infected.
Yes Facebook can be a useful tool!
We can use it to get together and "act a fool"
With our friends and have a blast,
Or ask questions to our college class.

But if it takes us away from the outside,
If it takes us away from nature's sky,
Then I'd rather quit;
Then I'd rather benefit
From that which God made
And not to which we have become slaves.

That's my two cents on the matter.
I don't mean this to make a clatter.
I don't even want you to "Like"
Or comment on how our thoughts are alike.

Just read and go about your "Facebooking,"
And maybe as we, in life, keep looking,
We'll find the courage to quit overlooking
What we've spent hours on,
What we've sacrificed our short time upon,
That which will hopefully be forgone.

I heard once that life is but a window
That we as birds fly through.
That we are not in limbo,
But that our lives vanish in a time too few.

I've let Facebook take me away from that which is eternal,
I've let it take me away from writing in my journal
About what I've read in the Bible,
Or from how I've come to see how God is vital.

In "All Is For Your Glory" I sing,
"Catch me up in Your story
All my life, for Your Glory"
Yet I stare blankly at the blue and white
And so easily get distracted from "My Delight."

We don't know what say the clock,
For we are too busy, we are alone.
We know not where we walk
'Till we look up from our phones.

How, then, are we to see where our lives are headed?
How, then, are we to see that we are embedded?

What I saw; it's not as I once knew.
What I practiced; it's not how I once grew.
I stood as a growing, but bending tree.
Only to be awakened by a strange and different breeze.

I go now to plant my roots elsewhere,
I go now in search of a different air.
My fellow trees, I hope, will still be within reach,
That our branches' bonds will not grow weak.

I pray that He leads me with His staff,
That I will listen to His will for me.
I hope that I will not be like the chaff,
But instead, by streams of a new water, be like the tree.

I sit outside in the cold, feeling the air wake up my skin.
I see three deer and think of Corky. I hope to see her again,

Although I am in nature, away from the city’s cars,
I can still hear one from afar.

I also hear several bird calls. One says “wee weee!”
While another answers with “cheep cheep” and another “tweet!”

I pray I will be spiritually ready to hear the messages,
Hmmm, I hope at breakfast there’ll be sausages.

I take life for granted way too often.
So much detail that now overflows
This one moment. It doth softens
My longing heart to now propose;

I will notice the unnoticed:
That which I see everyday,
That which I know is closest
To the great mundane.

Beautiful poetry from everyday poets
Beautiful music from professionals
Beautiful sunlight against swaying leaves
Beautiful movement outside the window
Beautiful simplicity in the dried leaf in my journal
Beautiful smiles from the bar tender

Beautiful time in the waiting,
waiting for eyes to look upon beauty with me.

the watch told time skewed
but the truth that he viewed
was not for us to understand
nor for us to watch along the sand.

Seconds ticked by
but as he looked to the sky
minutes dragged on
and hours fell silent upon,

his life

the sun flickers upon his hand
and thoughts of the past flicker upon his mind
no time there is for school or band
when sadness, lies, and regrets are behind

freedom from all thoughts is his prayer
but that is not possible for now
he fears this time he can not bare
but he must trust Him somehow?

the pink gloves rest softly on the table
And the sun drifts softly across the heart unstable

Soon my legs will fail
Under this pressure
If this wound is not
Cared for
I am tempted to
Dive into traffic to
Escape

The clichéd love bird's eyes stare blankly at the seed on the floor.
"Why should I eat if there is no one to eat with?" It asks itself.
Muscles aching from the night before
When countless attempts to leave the cage were destroyed.

The bird has learned to love its care-taker
But longs forever to find another to fly with.
It has matured, although reluctant to admit it;
Once before it sought after beautiful feathers and conversation.
Now it knows that a true bird always yearns to simply fly,

To fly on its own.
And with another.
At the same time.
Each in their own style.

It waits impatiently to pursue with all its desire the one it is meant for.
It is just the small problem of knowing which bird to look upon.
"It is too big of a risk; to fly with a broken wing." It says.

The caged bird flutters to and fro,
Afraid of escaping the open door,
Afraid of the probable depressing flight home to the worn out cage,
Afraid of the thoughts so destructive,
Afraid of the cage.
Afraid of itself.
Afraid of

lack of feeling is what I am feeling
am I Luke Skywalker warm?
the beast inside desperately wants to cause chaos
To make a scene; a cry for help from deep within.

It's easy to find meaning in almost anything:
A leaf in the wind, a letter I need to send
my finger twitching, my bike needs fixing,
Crumpled foil on a plate, the class I need to take

My legs get tense
My hands get stressed.
My eyebrows are bent
My life is blessed?

I need local anesthetic
To numb my numbness.
Perhaps dialogue will encourage my indecision.
Perhaps Max won't burn after all.

Smile on and joy in his feet
Chin up and shoulders back.
He ignores the thin ice beneath
And does not hear the cracks.

He rides through the air
With the wind in his hair
When his tires plunge into the frozen lake,
And is struck dead by his mistake:

He's too blessed to feel distressed.
But he's too lonely to feel blessed.
And he's too positive to know he's lonely.

Now he's too distressed to feel positive.
But he's too blessed to feel distressed.

Eyes closed and heart beating,
He lays in waiting for that which will not come. And the sky begins to fall.

He rides through the light shower
Ready to just hit a car and fall
To set his mind free from being devoured
But it would not be resolved.

So he rides on ahead in vain.
Looking to the sky, he is caught.
Too delirious to remember his name.
And the rain cries for the one who can not.

"Trust me, William"

The air runs through the pipe.
It goes about its way
and flows around turns;
turns controlled by valves.
The air is comfortable,
it is safe.

Through the pipe
the air flows past cracks, letting in light.
The air wants to explore this light outside,
but it stays in the comfortable pipe.

The air feels a dead end coming.
It reaches a valve, closing off the
pipe.
Pressure builds and tensions rise.
It only hopes the valve will open.

Suddenly the valve turns and the air is released.
The air is free.
It expands and wonders.

However, it soon misses the pipe
and looks for another,
only to find that there is none to be seen.

It needs containment.
It needs certainty.
It is cold.
It is lost in the darkness.

Suddenly, the air feels something,
something warm and beautiful beyond description.

It is light.
This same light which it saw in its pipe.
This light is so warm and calming.
It fills the air with joy and comfort.

Every one of its molecules vibrates and comes to life.
The air feels itself being carefully molded by the bright light
into a shape so beautiful: a perfect, geometrical sphere.

It is the shape it was originally intended to form,
but could not do so within the pipe.

Captivated by the beautiful light,
the air is brought to steam and feels inside it
this wondrous realization:

This light,
which it ignored in the pipes,
gives the air its true purpose,
which the pipe never could.

This light,
which was looking for it all along,
finally has connected with the air it loves.

This light,
which saved it from the darkness,
turns the air’s search for containment,
into a search for expansiveness and spontaneity,
into a search for a way to please the light.

This light,
which wants to it shine,
compels the air to free other bodies of air,
trapped in their pipes.

Hour by hour. We forget that time passes.
    -----------------------------------------------------­-
   These  frail  bodies can  only last  so  long.
   ------------------------------------------------------
   Power to  forever live we  do not possess.
   -----------------------------------------------------
   Disease destroys us while we make song.
       -------------------------------------------------
         When will his time to leave come?
                ----------------------------------
        ­           How will this man be
                        ---------------------
                ­         Remembered?
                     -----                   -----
                  When                      will
          ­    -----                                   -----
           He                                       ascend
      -----                          -                    ­     -----
      To                          the                      ­  sun?
     -----             -------------------------              -----
   How  will  they  say  his  life  was  centered?
   ------------------------------------------------------------
   How  will he  live for - now  what’s  his name -
  ------------------------------------------------------------­---
  God?  How  will  he live for  Him alone in awe?

When we listen to what tears us down
In our minds we become drowned.
When we listen to these thoughts
We then become caught.

How easy it is to complain and complain
And how easy it is to forget this puts us in chains.
When we look at what we lack,
We give in to the attack.

We can list and tell others forever
The things that haven’t gone in our favor,
But what does this do
Except make us blue?

However when we listen to what encourages us,
It’s others we can then bless.
We proclaim what we are thankful for
And our lives we come to adore!

How easy it is to rejoice and be thankful
When we see how our lives are indeed full!
When we look to what we do own,
Our minds can be blown.

We can list and tell others forever
The things that have gone in our favor,
And there’s nothing we’d rather do
Except praise You.

Heaven’s mystery and wonder is sublime.
It lasts forever.
In fact, it’s outside of time.
We last but a blink however.

To even imagine it is impossible.
It’s like a fish imagining dry land.
The mystery of Heaven is phenomenal.
It’s like the entire beach compared to a single grain of sand.

And even these do not portray
The truth that we’ll find on our last day.
The day when we’ll see His face,
The day our minds can’t begin to embrace.

How long do I have to live?
When will my last day come
When I have no more to give
To this world to which I’m from?

I hope I’ll live with Heaven in mind
Instead of living like I’m blind.
Because what is the point
If with God I am disjoint?

What song will be sung today?
Only God knows.
Will it be exciting and filled with energy,
Or will it be soft as the wind making the trees blow?

I pray that I will sing it for Him,
To give Him all the Glory.
I pray that I will not perform for them,
But will instead live His intended story.