The relations that I have with my all mighty savior are personal, eloquent, unworthy of human words.
Some people call it a religion
Some, insanity
However I call it life.
It's that kind of higher thinking that I am elated by
The fact that I am the smallest speck of dust on earth, in the millions of galaxies, in the universe compared to him
I fear it.
I fear his power, and his grace, and his forgiveness
I fear the fact that I can ****** another human being and still be loved so much.
I am not worthy
I used to be doubtful.
I was never doubtful of God, I always had my faith
But I was so doubtful that someone so perfect could love someone so flawed.
So ugly.
So filthy, and rotten, and disgusting, and UNWORTHY of love.
But he did. And he does, love me.
And he wants me.
He wants everyone, but most of all, he wants ME
When I look in the mirror I no longer see that disgusting human staring back at me.
I see Jesus Christ shining through me with his LOVE
his all mighty and saving love that I need.
This perfect man died for me. For every single thing that I am, for every atom and particle that make up every single thing that i am he DIED for it
And I don't think I will ever be able to comprehend his love
But I sure am grateful for it.

I’m more prone to the suspense of it all
the not knowing
or the knowing exactly
i don’t know how some people can know so much
we only use an insufficient amount of brain space
we cannot possibly know everything we need to in our lifetime
which leads me to the unknowing
the thinking
the wondering
the beauty of everything that can’t be explained by humans
but can only be explained by nature
the feeling of loneliness at sunset
but the wholeness of a sunrise

the smoke swirls around the blank wind
like my blank expresion
i try to think of the things that matter most to me
i don’t think think there is anything
people are expendable
they don’t stay
they don’t care
they don’t matter
music is there
always
art is there
always
my mind is there
most of the time
i am thankful for my mind
bright and working
twirling
like the smoke around the empty wind

I used to hate rain, I found no beauty in it. But then I realized that I found so much beauty in things that come from places uglier than where they were created. And rain helps that. Rain helps flowers grow in swamps, and grass grow in desolate land. From that, I learned that rain helps the soul. It helps it see the beauty in nature, and not just the storms.