When your mind begins to wander and your heart questions is he really there? Take a moment and listen to the silence and seek out God in prayer. Open up your soul and ask him to give you reassurance. His presence will overpower you and peace will let you be still. In these quiet moments simply wait on him. He will come to you and release your burdens and give you rest.

Cut open with the knife of emotion, all that I am is exposed. You have wounded me deeply and I am not sure that time can mend the damage. I am not sure what I can do anymore, my inner most self has been put on display for all to see. I am no longer protected by my armor, I am empty and barren. Take a look at what you have done. See the grievous damage you have inflicted. For now, I will just hide in the shadows and hope that in time things will change.

I'm a Holly Bush right beside my stairs, a small Brown has built it's best. Each time I go out or come in the bird will run away. I can see it and it can see me. How peculiar I thought it was that the bird would run away. Then today I saw that it's young had hatched and it acted differently. When I came out to be on my way, I looked at the fragile nest. But the bird didn't run away, instead it came off of the meet an firmly stops it"s ground. In whay ever language a Brown bird speaks, I was given a dressing down. A stern warning by a new mother that I should not stand around. So after my Schilling by the little bird, I smiled and was on my way, admiring the courage of that little bird, that said go on your way.

There was a skinny girl who didn't eat too much. She was never satisfied with how she looked. Despite being really thin, she tried to be skinnier,eating only what she needed to stay alive. She got to a point where she was as thin as a nail, but still she wasn't satisfied. Then one day she went to her mirror to see what she looked like. When she tried to look at herself, she found that she was finally so thin, that she could only see herself if she turned sideways.

In places where it seems that there is no hope, I see children smile and play. In the darkness of night, I have seen a million start give pinpoints of light to comfort the soul. In the desolate desert, I have seen a little rain bring the garden of Eden to mind. In places where it seemed impossible. In situations that seemed all but hopeless, I have seen Gods glory in the most amazing ways.

There are many destinations that lay before us. Though some of us may never leave our home town, we will still take many journeys that we do not expect. While others that travel abroad, may only make a few random stops. All of us are on a road trip that is filled with unforeseen twist and turns. All of it is an adventure, despite what we may believe.

I entered the halls of higher learning with anxious anticipation. I brought my ideas and thoughts. I approached the podium to speak, only to be blown away by fixed ideals. Set in a paradigm that was unyielding, the academics cut me to shreds. My ideas were pointless and my thoughts were beneath academic reproach. Thus I withered into a state of lamentation and paralyzed fear. What was I to do, how would I succeed. Then from the darkness of dusty tomes, I heard voices call to me. A man with a raven told me never more and someone named Red Chief told me to take my revenge. I heard a woman speaking poetry from her hidden garden and songs from the Mississippi filled my heart as a doddering old gentleman bid me good day. When I came out of my stupor, I realized that I should not fear the established way of things, but accept what I must do and become the spinner of words that I would like to be as many others had before me.

Looking at my own reflection, I realized that I was not true to myself. I had always been what others wanted to see. In a moment of inspiration, I decided to throw caution to the wind and become who I though I should be. All of my wardrobe was put into a pile. Clothes will no longer match. I will wear what I feel and not what I am expected to. My hair that is always perfect, will sometimes be a hot mess. It is so much easier to not have that stress. I will read a book instead of watching the next hot movie. I will drink less coffee and more hot tea. I will get in touch with what is inside of myself. I will simply be the real  me.

Starlings chirp and call to each other as they dance on the wind. Robins sing and chirp among the greening branches of a Willow tree. Little Chickadees sing a bright tune as they play among the thorny leaves of an evergreen Holly. The wind whistles through the tree tops and the sound of a 1000 Sparrows comes alive as an orchestra. Music is alive in the world, we just often fail to take the time to hear it.

I walked among the graves and saw many a religious and pious image, until I came to one lonely but grand grave. Upon the finely hewn stone was the image of a raven made from dark marble. It was weather worn, but still glistened in the sun. I thought how peculiar to see such a thing among all of the crosses and angels that people use. As I got closer to the monument, I noticed it's shiny eyes. They reflected the light from the dreary overcast sky. As I started to move away, I thought I saw the statue move. Then I dismissed it as a fanciful thought. It was then that I heard a cry of caw caw from behind me, I turned to see the head stone empty and a dark raven flying away.

Leaves fall off of the trees and flowers fade from the fields. Grass turns golden brown and it's seeds blow away in the wind. I sit beneath a tall tree and watch the sun sink lower into the west. I hold a pen and paper thinking of what I can say. You have been gone only for a season, but many things have left me with a hole inside. I am not sure how I will get to tomorrow, but I must try. In the end, things are getting more focused because of the pain. It sharpens my wits and makes me realize truths about myself. I can only hope that as a new season comes that I can come to terms with what I am feeling and that the passing of time will begin to mend old wounds.

To become as fine silver or as purest gold, first we must be refined. Not in the way the world would see refinement, but through test of our character and faith. To be a useful vessel for the spirit, we must be made empty. Heated over and over in trials that test us. Becoming something pure in our faithfulness. Always holding fast to that which we cannot see. When we have been cleansed, then we are worthy to be called to the service of God.

Flying airplanes at insane speeds. Dropping bombs on places you can't be sure that the enemy is. Getting shot down and tortured, that is if you survive the crash. Listening to the news and seeing the images that the government doesn't want you to know about. Hearing the enemy cry about your superior weapons as they nerve gas and slaughter their own people to make it look like you did it. Perhaps we should just stay home and sit this one out. War is really over rated.

Life is not all ways happy and clowns are just plain creepy. Bubble gum is fun until you get braces, then it is just an expense for your parents. It is fun to get flowers, but not always the same kind. Who says you have to give Roses, can't it be Pansies sometime?

Born an imperfect creature, I will achieve perfection. Made but flawed by sin, I will be made whole. In the flesh I shall be weak, but through his spirit I will be strong. In myself I shall accomplish nothing, but through God I shall obtain all things, for I am imperfect, but he shall take away my imperfections.

When I am persecuted I will speak his name. When the world forsakes me, I will speak his name. When all turn against me, I will speak his name. When they threaten me, I will speak his name. Faithful until death, I will speak his name, so that in the eternity Jesus will speak my name.

Monarchs do not come from mighty palaces, nor do they come from refined schools. Those who would rule, will not seek it. They must first learn to be a servant, for a kings life is not his own. They must not seek palaces or treasure, but the well fare of those around them. They must not exalt themselves, but must put others before them. They must seek wisdom not self aggrandizement. A king must be in touch with all peoples and not just those from he expects to receive gifts and favors.  Only a person who values law and justice more than station and honor will truly be a great king.

I put seed into the ground and planted a few trees. I tended the space and watched the vegetables, trees and flowers grow. I then invited my neighbors to come join me. All were welcome, no matter where they were from . I let them pick what they needed and be on their way. While they were there, I saw them begin to talk. Each person spoke to another about many things. They all saw that they had problems in common. Each time they came, they grew a little closer and soon my garden became a place where community was formed and barriers were torn down. All of this was possible, because I took the time to plant a garden.

Riding high on a selected blend. A potent herb from Afghanistan. Smiling at the acoustic sounds from an island band, while you partake of something from your Jamaican friends. Letting your imagination run wild, you see a sparkling blade. You just look in awe as it glistens and sways. You pick it up and it feels lighter than air, you swing it wildly with little care. Then you get it a little too close, and suddenly your missing the tip of your nose. You go awesome as your brain attempts to register the pain, fighting to get you the message, through a stoner's haze. Then it begins to hurt and you fumble the sword with a jittery ****. The blade is bobbled and tossed about, then it becomes quite clear, as it clangs to the floor, dude did I cut off my ear?

Spewing venom from a vile tongue. Sending out words of hate. Cutting each other to pieces, in a war of words that no one can win.

Giving flowers to a friend for no reason. Encouraging someone who feels they have reached a crossroad. Reminding someone that they are loved. These are simple acts of kindness that are part of giving joy.

Life lays in shattered pieces, pottery to be returned to the dust. Dreams have fallen by the wayside, old pursuits have come to nothing. Sitting among the ruins of things once hoped for, I look up to heaven and ask what is next. I do not know where to go from here or what road I must take. I sit idly and contemplate all of these things. I wait on the Lord and hold my peace, waiting for him to guide me.

Take the hair from that person and the voice from that one. Put them into my frame and take the smile from another one. A cut here a nip there and soon I am not what I was. I have redone the portrait that heaven painted in me, all for my own vanity.

There once was a dark haired maiden who was very pleasant when she was quiet. She had a delicate smile and fair skin, but when she spoke it became quite a riot. Though her looks were that of an angel, she had the screeching voice of a Crow. So what was lovely to be seen was a horror to be heard. So she always walked quietly and smiled politely and was seldom ever heard.

The air is cold and the lights are dim. Even in the coolness of the early morning, my palms sweat. I pull the blade from it's sheath and begin the ritual. Scrape goes the blade over the sharpening stone. Scratch goes the blade over the honing stone. An action repeated equally on both edges of the knife. Honing the blade to a glistening edge. One blade after another, until they are all perfectly sharpened. I look at my victims laid out in a specific order. I can see the veins and their limbs as they wait for me. I move my sharpened cutlery to where my victims lay. With each precision cut I spill their blood and juices. One by one they are precisely cut. I begin to tear up as I am splattered by the juices from them. My hands are stained red with their life's blood. As quickly as the carnage begins, so it ends. The vegetable are set aside and made ready for my kitchen and the making of the days fare.

I pick up my pen and I scream into the paper. I cut the pages and pull out the pain that is in my soul. I tear at the fabric of the parchment. I cry in each word. I want to know that I am received. I want to know that I am heard. I write and post, and then wait. Sometimes if feels like ages before someone likes or hates what I have said. I care not if they love or hate me, I just want to know does anyone hear me.

Sitting up until the waking hours of the morning. Listening to the needs of a friend. Comforting a sick child who can't understand why it hurts. This is the essence of caring. This is the essence of love.

My body is frail and my spirit has lost the will to fight. I see the coldness of my surrounding and I no longer want to be here. Family that once was familiar to me have become strangers. They weep and bicker while I languish. I hear distant voices that I cannot quite make out, I get a sense of something different. As my mortal shell fades, I take stock of the changing scenery. One world begins to fade and another begins to come into focus. I feel the pain leaving and joy returning. I am slipping the bonds of mortality and crossing over to what lies beyond.

Life dealt you a bad hand of card, so reshuffle the deck. Society is cruel, so be kind in a way that people will take notice. You hear people laugh and snicker, so have a great sense of humor and you might appear on broad way. When others don't get you, write a book about it. When they say you will never get there, just tell them it takes some of us longer than it does others. Always remember you are created unique. There are things about you that are special, you just have to let others know it. When the story of your life is written, it will show that you are amazing.

The flowers of the field are adorned in great beauty and the Sparrows want not for a seed to eat. I am of great value and yet I doubt what I cannot see. In truth all things are not my own, I only borrow them for a little while. Each sunrise and sunset is a masterpiece, we just fail to see it. All things are made ever present and all that I will require is waiting for me. From the time that I take my rest until the sun rises again, God knows my needs.

Enter the water, then reemerge a new creature. Walk into the wilderness and sit beneath a great tree. Climb up on to a high peak and watch the sunrise in silence. Find a focal point and renew the soul. Study words of wisdom and know more than you did before. Release the clutter in your life and focus on the truth of living. Know yourself better than you did yesterday. Let your soul be reborn into a new thing. Leave the baggage and mistakes behind. Become empty and find new things with which to fill your being, be cleansed.

Life is a fine thread that we pull taught then loosen. It strains and releases given to our circumstance. If we pull too tight, it will snap, if we let it go too loose, then it will tangle and we will get caught in one place. The twine must spin and flow not going to much to one way or the other. A balance must be maintained, for we are never sure of our own mortality or when it might come to an end.

I am not skilled yet, but I one day will be. I have much to learn in how to use the gifts that have been given to me. I sometimes feel that I am not ready to move on to the next place. I often question what I have done, and wonder if I have made a mistake. I want to be better than I was before. I would like to learn so much more. I refine my gifts each day as if I am repainting on the same canvas. Each time the picture becomes a little clearer. I am beholden to the master for his instruction. I want to be as good some day. First I must learn patients and then faith. Both of these things are essential to my success. When I have acquired both, then perhaps I will be ready. I will be able to step out on my own. Holding fast to the lessons learned from the master, and becoming a teacher myself.

Looking inside myself to find a melody. Pulling out a part of me and putting it on paper. Weaving the part of my soul into harmony. Giving of myself to bring life to the song. My blood and sweat go into the music. A part of me is taken when the tune is played. I hear my own voices speak through the melody. I have let others see the most intimate parts of me.

We are asked to love one another. We are asked to share with each other. We are asked to learn wisdom. We are ask to show restraint. We are asked to give justice. We are asked to abide by laws. All of this is what God ask for, but it is what we should do anyway. If we show each other kindness, then there is no need for war. If we are not greedy, then our neighbors will not do without. If we are slow to anger, then there will be fewer arguments, If we seek out a judge instead of taking things into our own hands. We will be doing what God ask of us. So why not turn to God.

Violets lain out across the field, Purple the color of royalty. I put on my cape and walk among the Golden Rods, barefoot across the Purple Violets. I feel the cool petals beneath my feet as I step delicately. I am royalty a princess born. Noble to a great house that has done great things. For a few moments the birds chirp and sing of my beauty. I dance before the royal court and dazzle them all. Then my dream passes and I fall into the a Scarlet carpet of flowers and take a little nap, still dreaming about the great things I will do.

Myself, myself oh frustration with myself. I am my own worst enemy. I find that I'm my own worst critic. I am always the most critical and angry with myself.

From sententious curves to full lips. From dark hair to ***** blonde. With pail blue eyes or dark brown, be at peace with yourself. From a case of the giggles to a kitten sneeze, know that you are special. Beauty is subjective and you are truly beautiful. In your own way, you hold beauty. You were created and made unique. You are special in so many ways. Be confident with who you are. Always love yourself.

Curse my mortality, shame is it upon me. I can not bear the grief that my own desires bring upon me. Temptation and the delight of pleasure, if even for a brief while. These things make me at odds with the celestial powers. What is man, but a bundle of emotions? Desires that rule our reason. If we are hungry then we seek to eat. If we are lonely, then we seek company. Not in the sense of spiritual comfort, but in the worldly things that give such as this. Alas all of this is temporary, for again we have a mortal self. That which gets in our way and causes us to stumble. If not for divine dispensation, we would die of our own lustful ways long before fate had dictated our end.

In the dark of the night I lie in anticipation. In hope of tomorrow I silently hang on. Many have been the disappointments and sorrows that I have met, but I still wait for another day. As I know spring must follow winter, so light must follow the darkness. As the last shreds of darkness are torn away, the new dawn is just over the horizon and soon I know morning will come.

There are lots of ugly weeds in the places of the world. They are born from seeds of hate and ignorance. I will come on a journey and plant seeds of hope and service. Giving to others to help lift them up. I will be a light and shine in the dark places. I will seek to make better the lives of as many as I can. I will hold fast to the hope that each life I can touch will be for the good and not the ill. Offering a future of prosperity and accomplishment instead of one of death and misery. Helping others to make life beautiful again.

On a path that is straight and narrow, I will attempt to walk. Through valleys and dry places I will seek to go. Though I may stumble and fall, he will pick me up. I will follow the steps he has put before me as a guide. In his word I will be steadfast, to his calling I will adhere. Being brave in my convictions as I go. Not wavering though death shall overtake me. I will follow Jesus, in his footsteps I will go.

Oh the shameful thing! Oh the blot on my pride. How can I face it? Such ugliness and it is not easily cleaned away. Oh the horror of it all, to face the blight of such a thing. Normal laundry will never get it out, I guess it will have to be dry cleaned.

I pulled down some stars to see what they would do, they burned my hand and made me sorry I did it. I wanted to talk to a fish, so I stuck my head under water, I soon realized I could not breathe. I decided I would pursue self enlightenment so I filled my bed with nails, I didn't get much sleep, but now I am truly holy. I tried many things to make my life less dull, so I think I will paint myself and watch it dry. That sounds like a lot of fun.

When I am gone and you lay me low, do not weep for me, I would not want it so. Throw a party, invite my friends and enemies alike. Serve my favorite foods and take utter delight. Drink until you have had your fill, the tab is on me. Its the least I can do, because you had to put up with me. Know with comfort that I have gone on to a better place. Some where more peaceful I think. So remember me with fondness or remember me with a leer. How ever you like, drink up and be of good cheer. If you are my friend, know that you will be missed. If you are my enemy, then to you I say this. You have finally won, I met my fate. Just take a moment while your sober to think of who you will now hate. So take stock of your own lives, and say farewell as I go to my eternal rest. Shed no tears for me unless their of joy, just celebrate my death.

The stage is set as prying eyes look on. All things leading up to the act are in motion. The romance between two young lovers culminates in the wedding scene. Then the stage changes, the fair maiden goes to her betroth. As the two come together and the ****** nears, the lights go down on cue and curtain call. What happened, alas the censors are prudes, end scene.

I took a walk in the woods and a patch of Kudzu turned black. I leaned up against a tree and all of it's leaves turned brown. I went swimming at the beach and the Algae turned red, perhaps that's why I am banned from the ocean? I once lay down in a bed of poison Ivy and I had to chase it to get it to support me. I am not really sure, but perhaps plants hate me.

Stuck in black muck, idle for lack of trying. I am trapped in an inkwell and cannot get out. The pen punctures the surface of the icky goop, but I still cannot escape. Try as I might, I am stuck in the darkness. I see only brief glimmers of light each time a quill pierces the surface. Nothing is moving, I am stuck. I cannot just materialize on the page. The words that want to be written are trapped in the ink well and I can't get them out, and thus I am trapped with them going nowhere.

I want a drink of clean water, with nothing but what nature put there. I want to see ducklings that do not have three eyes or deformed wings. I want to be able to see the bottom of a deep pool where fish swim and I can dive in and join them. I would like to water my garden and not have my corn wither and die. All in the name of profit and money, this is the daily norm. No one cares about their neighbors, they only care about themselves. Its not until the children get sick and die does someone have enough. Then money is offered in the place of life, to buy silence if it is offered at all. So as the earth cries out and children get sick and die, I ask one more time, please don't poison me.

Rain descends from silver and dark clouds. Waterfalls come from high cliffs. Springs bubble up from beneath the earth and snowy peaks melt and form gentle streams that turn into mighty rivers that flood over their banks. All of the water falling, and we can't seem to keep it clean.