If it wasn't for the pessimist
What would the optimist do
They'd have no earthly idea
What was needed to pull through

Or the gravity of the situation
And how to handle it best
Without the negative of the pessimist
What would fill the optimists head

Without the doom and gloom of the pessimist
Positive would be a lost cause
My best guess is that the optimist
Needs the pessimist after all

What will it be like
when I close my eyes
      for the last time?
Will I see that
    bright light
      I have heard about?
Pain may flicker
in those last moments,
      or maybe
       there will be
      no pain at all?
This I do not know.
From my first breathe
     to my last, oh how
many people and places
have I known and been?
Seems a wandering train
      of adventures
         has left the track.
Oh, how it seems
to have been rushed.
       It is now,
       as it seems,
        the end.
That last stop
    that shall only
     happen the once.
This passenger
    is getting off
     at that location.
Will anyone be
      at the station
        to greet me?
Such is the faith
     I hold, that I
      hope this is so.
Shutting down.
Closing.
Dying.
Final visions
filtering themselves
      from my eyes.
Who will I see
    around the bed
      when
       I
        swallow my
         last gasp?
Should I be afraid?
Or should I
     welcome the
      death rattle
       as a system of
        release?
Free from
the sundry
incompleteness
of walking in this life.
Not having to
      worry about
       the
        imperfection
         of walking
          on this planet.
As life drains
     out of me,
      what will be
       my very last thought?
What final image
       will I take with me
        to the grave?
I pray it will be swift.
Absent from pain
       and present
        in God.

translucence is rare
withdraw your opaque armor
swim in fearless love

©2016janetaylor

Be a Life changer, not a death maker, speak life into others.
Bring healing into others lives by speaking it into their lives.
For we were all put on this earth, by the Living God Jesus.
To speak life into other people lives here on the earth.
Because by speaking life, we are drawing them to be healed.
For we are called to Love others, not hate them here.
For being Christ like here we shall reveal him to others.
Which is our purpose here to love others into finding him.
Thus having another friend , when we all go to heaven in the end.

♡° ⊙ • ⊙ °♡
This place in my heart
There...
intimately aware
     Deep tenderness
Imbued with
illuminessence
Moonflowers
opening in the fullness
of the Moon's light
     Tonight
wrapped tight
threads of fear
Mama Pain
too great to fight
     A ragged slice
overflowing
with hurt by
unkind words
thoughtlessly
thrown my way
Self inflicted pain
when I doubt my inherent
Knowledge and Strength
     I know this part
of my heart
that holds
the wounded
collections of me
Keeping at bay
the ache that
lives within
     The Blessing is
that Love
surrounds
Wraps around
with Healing light
Shining within
to Hold The Power
     Allowing me respite
from the Sacred Locket
held in this place of
My Heart
♡° ⊙ • ⊙ °♡

Copyright © 2016. Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved

related poems...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1483839/19/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1465555/knick-knacks/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1181941/it-hurts/

Poetry is life in motion , a Niagara Falls of words , a super nova of emotions , cradled on the infinitesimal lines of creation .

Dark knights
on white satin
With pumice for breath
Exact the toll that tells

I cut my heart out
Placed it on display
I get much sympathy that I
throw down my endless well

It's bitter , the wine
It's better than time
I will out to find
a curse that binds

"I" falls off the tongue's challenge
Captured and caged
I send notice to the page
Now that the cat's captured the rage

So it comes down to the season of reason
I am reluctant to part ways
Pray thee write a poem on my behalf
That I will exist beyond these days .

I wrote a letter the other day.
dancing around the subject of dragonflies
I don’t speak in their language
honestly its too complicated
because I don’t speak in nuzzles
I don’t speak in love
I speak in the cold attitude of indifference
I mutter thoughts in blue ballpoint pen

To him I speak in keyboard clicks
with a snap of a twig we flip
and we are in the same room
matching cereal bowls
emptied of their contents in the sink
We speak in notches on a bed post
and a mattress on the floor
We speak in unwashed sheets
He crushes my disdain as if it were a walnut shell
and informs me that I speak in my sleep

Whatever the weather we stay at home
stare out the windows at the fairy lit wilderness
jotting down whatever concepts come to mind
he is cream rolling in peaks
smooth and whipped
poured over his duvet
as if he were cool whip on peach pie
He is my worst intentions personified

I wrote a letter the other day.
dancing around the subject of dragonflies
I dont speak in their language
but he speaks mine
even though its complicated
we don't speak in words
we speak in private displays of affection
we speak in caring closed door moments
and the texts he asks me to send when I walk home alone
To make sure I am safe
and In the end I may mutter thoughts in blue ballpoint pen
but He reads them loud and clear and responds in love

We're always a little more open minded at night
With forgiveness being the perfect painkiller
And wisdom the reward for a lifetime of listening
When we would have preferred to have spoken

The past can not be changed and opinions don't  
Have to refine our new and trembling reality
Happiness is always found within our souls
And our journey could take a change of direction

So dare we fly in formation just the two of us
Powering each other into the fresh cool air
Overcoming gravity with the ease of pleasure
And gliding on delicate feathery wings of peace

Though a splendid sight
comes stealthily close
and tears off the flesh
in a sharp bite.
Slimy skin and the deadly fin
makes the calm ocean,
place for a deadly scene.
I dare not dive
I dare not swim
I dare not hunt with
a spear so blunt.

But I wonder, if I ever
see a shark once inside the sea
coming close towards me
will I get a rope to pull me
up to the boat ?

In this sea of serenity
there is no clarity, that
when there is trouble in sight
what is wrong and what is *right.

Here I go again
Dubious footsteps
Questionable motives
Perusing the dark and restless past
Changing as perceptions change
And perceptions change with
The tolerance of added years and distance
Creating the uncertainty of honesty
Turn black and white
Into grey elusive shadows
And there
Amidst the darkness of my past
And all my pointless journeys
For the first time ever
I see a small white light
Constant and unblinking
And I am aware deep inside
That this is the long awaited
Birth of peace

                        By Phil Roberts