As the day closes
There is a resting heartbeat
That echoes through the land
As breathing draws out
Into a yawn
Turning to the promise of dawn
Though the dark may be fearful
And full of horrors
It is the promise of day
That makes the night passable
Even a pleasure
For we know that we can rest assured in this peaceful darkness
When we know that it’s end is marked

The rain was falling in its usual haphazard way
Sporadically coming and going
Leaving me to accept the dampness that I attempted to delay
I say attempt as if it was earnest, yet my only shield was the paper from today
So truly, all that remained of my “attempt”
Was a sopping wet mushy mess
And I was left at the will of the chaotic fates
But as if I had called them by name
An umbrella harshly hit me in the head
In a flurry of words I could only pick out a few
With many of them being profuse “sorries” and a peculiar mixture of “what did I do’s"
What initially appeared to be a speaking parasol and a plume
Of brightly colored and rather endearing pastel hues
Tipped back to reveal
A Beautiful, short, red headed girl
Staring up with eyes painted a bright sky blue
Though my tongue had left me and I had become unglued
It seems I was capable of uttering a rather embarrassing “how do you do”
Immediately I realize my mistake in my haste
Which was probably immediately evident on my face
I had in an instant traded my usual southern twang
For a rather poorly performed and probably offensive English impression
I quickly turn away
Taking long strides before I find a place on a crowded park bench
Yet as I am about to sit
I feel a light tap on my shoulder
Slowly turning around, knowing the statistics were currently against me
I see the face of the girl I had just moments ago
Effectively ran away
I mean figuratively
Because it was literally me
Who had done the running
Yet all she had to offer was a smile
A small upturned grin
That ceased all attempts to explain what my unappealing dash had meant
For I knew I would meet with embarrassment again
Yet she quickly put my fears to peace
Offering the umbrella she held in her hand
And walked with me under the trees
Leading me to the reasoning
That though things may seem haphazard and drastically varied
Everything still manages to fall exactly where it’s meant to be.

How we fall decides so much
Though inevitable is the crash
Rebuilding depends on such
Where we look and what we clutch
If we are frantic
And panic to find something to grasp
Then we will collapse
In a heap of destruction
But if we observe and look
For ways back up
Then we can prepare for the coming ascent

Sometimes it seems
That happiness is so far out of reach
I don't know where to start
It has become a quest
Yet I always find myself stumbling
The way I pursue this dream
Is quite obviously clumsy
Sometimes I wonder if I appear
More like a newborn deer
Rather than the confident lion
I try to emulate
Though standing strong was never my forte
And adventure foreign to me
I only now see the desire to be happy
I know it seems ridiculous
But the path ahead must be better than where I've been
So this is my quest
And I believe I see the best place to begin
At the end of your fingertips

I see her in my dreams
Now I know that may be cheesy
But with me it has a completely factual meaning
She is literally in all of my dreams
Though I can't say that I mind it
But the problem is I dwell on things obsessively
I don't really know when to stop
So you can imagine my ire
To the fact that when I do successfully block my thoughts of you
They only wait until I'm asleep to make it passed my guard
And now here you are
Standing in front of me
Making it difficult to discern if this is reality or a dream
For currently you make up the majority of both
Yet you speak in a way that I had never even had the courage to hope for
Not even in my wildest fantasies
Asking "would you want to get coffee with me?"

She was resting her head on her inclined hand
Searching outside of the window for that slowly fading land
It was once so easy to recall on a whim
When she was that long gone idealistic kid
That place in which she could shape the clouds by hand
Paint the sky's with a gentle kiss
Holding civilians made of stuffing and cotton
Tied together by dandelion stems
Living in kingdoms built of sticks
Collected from the dark forest
That lay behind her childhood home
That land that was always close at hand to run to in times of pain
She slowly draws back from the clouded window pane
Only now realizing her loss
Yet in this moment her hand is disturbed from its rest
By the minuscule fingers of her little kid
A girl with hair glowing red
From the sun filtering through the chilled late August winds
In those eyes she saw it
The thing she thought she had lost
It wasn't as far as it seemed
That kingdom beyond the sea.

There is within me a fire
I feel it burning from the ends
Of my calloused fingertips
As if it is exceeding my soul
When I recede, it grows
At my end, it echoes
Into the vast unknown
Though unassured I am
In the faith of my hand
I can rest in the known promise of that flame
It warms my soul
As it does all who hold
The communion of its glow
Bringing all people into one
Unified within the Holy Ghost

An anchor, is my soul
Resting in placid waters
Steadfast in its hold
On my restless heart
For it knows
The places to remain and those to depart
As I am subject to the moving forces of the world
Being a ship resting over the deep
And though the distance between
My soul and me
May grow and shrink
I find peace knowing that
Though we may lie leagues apart
My soul stays grounded as my heart drifts so far
An anchor, is my soul
set aflame by the Holy Ghost

Your presence demands the attention of all those in the room
It is like a scene
From one of those overused princess movies
And though there isn't much to do
My eyes keep returning to you
Oh the magnetism of your smile
Of the way that you wrinkle your eyes
When they by chance meet with mine
Could it be that there is reason
To these wonderfully awkward meetings
Or are you merely surveying the room
I quietly count the number of times
When in my planned and measured tactics
To ensure that you don't see my interest in  you
The number of times which your gaze is already meeting with mine
Quickly looking away and brushing your hair from your face
how many times you would quickly turn away to divert attention in a way
Hopefully showing that you are trying not to be caught in your process too
In this theory, I somehow build up enough courage to cross the room
With a path clearing as though this quiet audience knew
That a silent game
Was being played
In this space
That I was now attempting to cross
And as that distance closed
I saw a light in your eyes
That showed that maybe I was right
To hope for a reason behind these wonderfully awkward meetings

I don't know where this started
But it seems I can see the end
What at first seemed to merely happen
Has become too much of an effort to mend
The weight of unresolved pain is slowly ripping us apart
And only now do I know how the way I handle hate
Isn't conducive to caring for a heart
You gave me yours
And I did likewise
In a misguided effort to draw a line
Connecting me and you
But now those lines divide
And our hearts are no longer tied
And I feel like I've lost a piece of you
maybe I have
I've tried to find
The heart you freely gave
But it seems it has been misplaced
Or as I am afraid, you might have taken it away
So this must be the end, there seems to be no more
So please just leave my heart on the end table
On your way out the door

We seem to think that being hurt is an option
That we can close people out and take the weapons from them
But being human means that we must love easily
Without worry of those who may not see
The weakness evident in trying to beat
The humanity
Out of those who stand
For in a land of hate, love is strength
And in the midst of uncaring
It is those who know they will be hurt
Yet still weep with those who are weeping
And stand for those who are kneeling
They are the ones who will be strong enough
To still be caring when the tides come
Who will maintain their humanity when it seems hope is gone
For those are the ones who know the price of love.

I have to start somewhere
So I thought it should be at the top of a page
I know this isn't poetic
I rarely am myself
But I have to speak
Don't ask me why
I just must
It is who I am
I don't know how to shut up
I know that isn't eloquent
But does it really matter
As I said
I'm rarely a poet and this isn't a poem

I don't know
How quickly
This distance is closing
Between you and me
Sometimes I imagine myself
Following a line of string
Through a forest of densely knit trees
Weaving slowly 'neath the bending eaves
And hoping that I will soon come into a clearing
Where you are all I see
Holding the end of this bright red string
And that it would be that easy
But sadly it's not
I'm afraid I'm merely lost
Finding signs where there are none
Maybe you'll just grow tired and come find me
Sitting under a tree writing piles of romantic poetry
Just twiddling my thumbs
Which is just as likely.

How long is too long to be silent
I've been counting the quiet
And only now am I questioning
Why it's there
Perhaps it's the colour of your hair
Or the way you move your fingers through empty air
Playing a symphony on a piano that's not there
Or maybe I'm just being weird
Which is just as likely, if not more so, than the former
Yet you don't seem to notice either
After all, silence depends on the lack of input from all parties involved
Perhaps my actions are likewise stilling your words
Maybe you're as lost as I am
In this conversation of actions
Teaching us the thoughts of one another
In a way beyond syntax and inflection
By the way your fingers move, I bet you're a musician
And I'm sure you've deduced my obsession
With writing by the way my eyes
From time to time
Stare off to the side
With me following the life
Of a character that materialized in my mind
But of course that is all merely wishful thinking
In fact
I almost begin to gather my books into my worn rucksack
Signaling my surrender
When you offer a quiet smile
And I become content, once again
In our unspoken conversation

How do we fall?
This question quietly sits
In my head as
My eyes rest on your lips
It is astounding, how the air quietly closes around us
Entombing us in the time that exists between the words
That at this point seem superfluous given the state of my mind
I am currently in free fall waiting for something to catch
And I continue to grasp
Yet it is in vain
For the way your hair falls from your braid
Has dissolved all ground beneath me
How could you look at me in that way
That buckles my knees
I do not know how I am carrying on
For I am falling without hope of ever getting up

It's as if the knowledge of our terminal nature
Awakens the fatal agents in our bones
That it is only when we learn of death
That we start dying
Such as with childhood
A time defined by ignorance of an end
Seems infinite
Yet as we start to see
Our favorite characters in the books we read
Reach the end of their adventures
Even with the promise of happily ever after
It is evident that just as the lines on the pages ceased
The lives told of in the story therein likewise fade into history
And then
It clicks...
In that instant we see the disease of fatality
A true virus to be caught
Transmitted through literature and tragedy
Crescendoing to an inevitable crash
No cure to be discovered
Only catalysts that act
To speed the immutable throws of death

Do you not feel the weight of infinity on your bones
That as you search for the answers this burden holds
You are merely moving topsoil
We queer little creatures try to shout when we don't even have a voice
Try to dig yet don't have the sinews nor muscles to make a choice
We try to ascend past ignorance
And in doing so truly show it in believing there is any possible recompense
For this futile attempt to define our existence
We are merely flickers
Indistinguishable in the scope
Of the infinity that swallows us whole
But in the end there is truly only one answer
That no matter how much we ****
No matter how much we sift through the sod
There will always be the reaches of the universe to account for
The infinite presence of God

I have to speak
The words are building up and are becoming stale
I have lost something essential
Yet I can't recognize what it is
I have become weak
My knees buckling, skin turning pale
A thought has been planted
And it is spreading like a ****
"What if they don't like me"
It branches into all past rejections
And has become a large tree
To be truthful
I can't handle it
There seems to be more scars
In its gnarled trunk
Then there are stars
Caught in its reaching branches
It is of my own building
I watered and fed it
With self-pity
And now I have the gall to reject it
It is me

There must be a creator for I can feel the artwork of the stars inside of me
The brushstrokes of the mountains within my genes
I can reach for the heavens, see the things hidden, and believe
Believe in he who painted the seas
He who breathed
Life into being
Into beings like me
Though minuscule we are
Who can recreate the beauty we see
From you, the almighty
The source of all
Beginning and end
The blessing in our bones
The one who bled
His soul into our own
He who signed his life into our veins
I am forever thankful for the ability he has given me
To laugh in joy and in sorrow weep
The ability to see beyond the veil
That separates the people
The body of Christ
Unified in his sacrifice
Yes, there must be a creator for my soul has found solace
In a world that only knows suffering

Is God a man
I mean society sure seems to think he is
He holds us in his strong hands
Protects us from the pains of the land
But when did these traits become exclusively masculine
Can patterns of love be defined by gender
Can the glory of God not transcend our fear
Of not being able to understand
Not able to label
The one who made the land beneath us
He is strong and meek
knows both war and peace
So which traits make God a man
Since when did a creator become defined by the works of his hands
Why can't God be God
And man be man
He our savior
And us his servants

If today is a page
In the way
That time as a series of events was laid out
Formatted in the same way as a novel or epic
Would the things that happen in a moment be great enough to make the final edit
I'm afraid
That if someone were to read me like a book
They wouldn't make it past the small summary that lies on the inside
Or maybe they would just see my name
And think "I've read this before"
Lending my life story to the cynical thought of "that was predictable"
Or worse yet make a game
Of what is the next thing he'll say
That is all I can think of, because that is what I would do
Am I living in a way
That every moment you could look at and say
"Now this part is important"
That it would be impossible
To open up to the middle
And "get to the good part"
No, they would have to read every sentence
Not one unimportant in the scope of the ending
It's somehow easier to live life that way
As if you're an author
Trying to save every word
From the tyrant editor
Packing weight into every single page
One breath leading to the next
Leading your life up the steps
To the great tomorrow
Life was meant to lie on the lips of old men
To exist in the smoke of the pipes held in their hands
To pour from the mind to all those who would listen
Full of hero's and friends
That character that makes you laugh with every line he says
To be read to sons and grandsons as they lie in bed
Dreaming of the tomorrows and the stars overhead
Maybe today could be the part where they reach out their hand
And plead for you to tell it again
For it is their favorite part
Where the knight saves the damsel in distress
Or maybe when he merely decides to live again
Maybe today is the page where everything changes

The artificially colored television set is playing "It's a Wonderful Life"
It is my fathers favorite, which isn't much of a surprise because I believe it's a fathers kind of movie. As George Bailey meets the girl who will one day be his wife he is a dream filled man.
Filled with ambition and enough money in his hand but he never reaches his dreams.
I remember I used to dislike it, the whole thing.
Even though we just watched it once a season for my father.
Truth is I didn't understand it, or probably more correctly I couldn't.
As a child, dreams seem as close as the moon
Which in our hope filled eyes is never that far, just a couple more summers away,
But those summers come and go and the moon seems to be running away
Staying just past our fingertips,
But as we are looking up we forget the ground
Forget the happiness that we have already found
And point at those who got a lot farther than we ever could
There comes a time when you have to look down
And find that you've been living the dream all along
I think that's what the movie means
Finding that reality will always be better than the dream
And I'm sure one day when I'm a father myself, it will be my favorite Christmas movie
And I'll make my kids begrudgingly watch it knowing that they can't understand
But one day they will
One day their dreams will escape their hand.
And when that happens they will still be able to look up and say it's a wonderful life.

Dear Beloved,

  I have traveled through the land trying to find a place for us. I've been watching the sunset from the hills that line the country trying to find one worthy of your beauty, and I've become afraid, for it is an impossible task. Please forgive me for sounding sentimental, that isn't the purpose, yet I have found myself unable to find a place perfect for our dreams. Looking for trees that will sing the best harmony to our lulling minds as the winds of the night blow across the star laced meadows. A place where the hillside is painted the color of your deep green eyes, yet I am troubled. For I'm afraid it doesn't exist. I have found that you have ruined me, for you caused me to believe that the things of dreams were able to translate into reality. You are my captured fantasy and I'm concerned that I'm being selfish in asking for another. So while there may not be the perfect place for us, I know that in your gaze I have found a home.

Yours truly, and yours alone

This chaos is choking me
And here I stand trying to make something of it.
The world demands order
Yet I am unable to connect these dots into a comprehendible picture.
My thoughts burst through the floodgates.
Leaving me to bear the full force of this raw confusion that is sweeping over me.
I want to be able to rearrange this disorder into something eloquent,
To be able to state it in a way that will make an impact,that's all.
I want to make a mark that will last long after my body is dead and gone,
But the marks that we make are too often scars.
The constellations we arrange in the skies too often fall apart.
It is a cruel cycle that I shall now become a victim of,
Yet hold on
Hold on and grasp those broken heart strings that I leave behind
And use them to tie the stars together and show the world the beauty I see in you
Collect the lights I found in your eyes and paint a picture
That will immortalize the way I look at you
Our time was short yet it seemed like an eternity
And I will always rest in that small infinity we shared

I dream
As we sit in a star laced scene
I wish I could be your everything
Yet
As the words form on my lips
I realize a kind of awkward thing
you can't be that to me
I know that sounds kind of ****-ish but let me explain
I'm not incomplete
And you're not my missing piece
So why do I want to be yours
I don't want to be your world
I want to be my own
And if that means that we're not in each other's orbits anymore
So be it
For, when the night places things where they're meant to be
I know that I can't be your everything
Because you're already complete
There is no hole for me to fill
Or a gap where I perfectly fit
Or any other one of those pastel pictures
That we love to define love with
You are more than that
and the love that we share
is not some dependent creature
Needing our constant filling
For when I am the only one giving
I am certain it will devour me
So let it be
Place it on a shelf with the rest of your trophies
because we must either start again or end whatever this is
For dependence must never be confused with love.

I don't know anymore
I don't know where I stand
In the grand scheme of things
It used to be so easy
When the lines weren't so definite
And crossing them wasn't such a big deal
When the painting could easily
Surpass the frame
Which acted almost in the same way
As a dare to set free
The dream that was held within
But now the frame has become reality
And the dream has become a boundary
Between what we can achieve
And things we can only strive to be while we are asleep
Now it's almost considered insanity
To reach for the things that we know would make us happy
I am told that I can only believe in things that can be seen
Anything other than that is stupidity
I am told that there is no more room for mystery
Yet I reject that for I know that there is more
More out there then what we've been told
And that is what I hold to be true

I am a member of the human race
And I am just starting to know what that means
I remember a point at which I prayed to be different
To be able to view things from a distance
Because being human means being hurt
And then in turn
Hurting others
It means to speak free
And then think that means
To have the power to demean
To use those words to destroy
I wanted so badly to be above it
But I'm afraid I could never stand so tall
Yes, I am human
But I'm not broke
For I have hope
I speak free
Yet my words mend
And not because of me
But because of the one who lifted me up on my feet

Religion taught me to fear
It told me to deny the aches of my bones
As if there was something inherently evil about it
That this body that God knit together
Was destined to be broken
I'm starting to doubt the height of the mountains
Because of the depth of my current valley
Have I always been here
Was that hill I stood on
Merely a mound in a canyon
Yet there is one thing I am sure of
That God is and was always here
Offering to take this burden
While there was me trying to believe that there wasn't one
Because I liked it
It kept me inside the lines
And each time I would wander too far
Send me a crippling shock of fear
And now, only while looking back,
Do I realize that I want more

I am starting to fear that I am loving you to death
That the silent faith in this quiet embrace
Is pushing you the wrong way
I know that you waver with the passing days
But I can't find it in me to say
Or scream, or yell, or do what it would take
To make you even turn your gaze
To just see how you are so far away
I know where your path leads
Yet I stay silent
I mean I may share
A whisper here or there
But that is far from what you need
You need me to leave
To let my absence speak louder than the words I never said

This is where I find myself
In a place completely new to me
And it seemed to happen
in a mere blink
I am lost
Dropped off
In a foreign land
With no means to find myself again
It's actually fairly tiring stumbling around like this
And I don't really have the hope
To maintain this illusion anymore
To seem like I know what I'm doing
To perform confidence
For the deserted landscape that surrounds me
That is why I must rest in the shadow of the cross
For there is no longer any lasting shade
All other landmarks have long ago faded away
Leaving me to bear the blunt force
Of the ever burning Sun
That is the last bit of hope I have left
A little mustard seed
But soon it will be replaced by a magnificent tree.