The lines bleed onto the paper
Aligning themselves into words and pictures
Masterpieces standing ignorant
of their own beauty.

Pastels sitting on canvas
Being pushed around with a brush.
They form many different hues.
Mixing with deep purples and vivid blues
Painting such a sad story.
That whispers of pain and vain glory
The edges are tattered and torn to pieces
The canvas is severely moth eaten
But the artist loved it,
It is his life's work.
for many years it had been lost
Rotting and fading and falling apart
But He searched relentlessly
Turning over and rifling through everything.
Until he found it
His eyes brightened up
Despite its dismal look

It had lost hope of ever being beautiful
Of being dignified
Of ever bringing hope to somebody's eyes
But the artist whispered to that tattered canvas
You are so much more than all of these
you are my masterpiece

He sees her
The clichés that
He was always quick to dismiss
Now fill his head.

He meets her
The butterflies in his stomach
Take flight
Leaving him breathless.

He falls for her
As the words hang on her lips
He tumbles head over heel
Knowing he would never find the ground again

He asks her
As the butterflies reach his throat
He  chokes
But she still says yes

He dreams of her
The light of her eyes
Has burned the sight of her
Into his mind

He waits for her
At the foot of the stairs
And can only stare
As the princess makes her way down

He is stunned by her
His lips refuse to part
To allow any breath to replace
The one that she had taken away

He leads her
From the hall
He wants to rip the stars apart
Just to find her heart

It was such an easy love
Pure and new
Unscathed by scars
From trials they were bound to go through

The placebo ticks are numbing my mind
After my imaginary friends have all stormed off
These Freudian slips are my only comfort
As they give me hope that there is something under this rotting facade
I swear it was beautiful long ago
I know that is hard to believe seeing how it is now
But that pile of rubble once was my pride and joy.
I built up this faux appearance of self confidence
Along with just enough structure as to hold it up but not enough to be real
So now, here I am, raw
Unprotected against the elements
The towering spires attracted them
The stone throwers
And as expected it came down with the first couple of pebbles
But I love those minutes as those spires fell
For it was that destruction that made place for the cross
That worthless skeleton made way for this hope
Hope that I can be more than this facade
That I can be this person that I tried so hard to hide away
Under layers of protection and false fronts
Because that cross told me I was beautiful
It told me that I was worth revealing because I was his

My heart aches
Yearning, burning
To find beauty in the mundane
To find meaning in the stirring of the strings
The secrets that hide behind the
Swell of the harmony
Why do our souls
Cling so desperately
To the mountainous musings of the melody
Riding over the hills
Of a despairing land.
The horns scream out the
Pain of the peasants
While the clarinets take up
The whispers of the voiceless
And the flutes cry with the motherless child
But all of that quiets as the black notes sail away
The strings adopt the voice of the man pleading to his star crossed love
To run away
And the woodwinds soon join the chase
Of this dreamy eyed couple from that ****** place
Music moves
It soars it sinks
It carries and spellbinds the wandering soul.
It promises a divine love that will heal
Music is truthful
It tells us that there is something bigger than us
How else could these vibrations
Rip our souls apart and just as quickly sew them back
Every soaring note carrying our dreams to the one that formed us
No other medium could as purely
Convey the true beauty
Of Gods unfailing love for humanity

What happens at the end
When we reach the last bend
When the hills and valleys spread
And become less drastic
When we flat line
When we have reached as high we could reach
And can only grasp
At slipping memories
Is that what we really call peace
That's what I'm told is at the end
We hammer R.I.P into the gravestones of our fallen friends
And leave flowers to aid in their sleep
I mean are we just the sum of our life
Because by myself I know
That I wouldn't add up to anything worth measuring
There is no greatness in me
I am a minuscule dot on a minuscule dot on just a small smear
Of what we call reality
So what is the use of a insignificant being such as me
Questioning the vastness of infinity
It's really absurd actually
I mean I'm not trying to be poor pitiful me
But I am literally nothing
In comparison to the almighty
And there isn't an ounce of greatness in me
That isn't from my king
So what happens at the end?
That's the real question
Some say we cease to be
We try to define life as
How  far our conscience minds can reach.
Then there's those who desperately
Wish that it is a dream
And cling to this fleeting hope till their knuckles turn white
They hope That this pain can't reach beyond the grave
But I am so afraid
That in the act of dreaming they are losing sight of the reality
That peace doesn't lie in the grave
Or carved in the eroding stones in the cemetery
But in the savior that took that stone of death
And rolled it away
That took everything separating us from him
And nailed it on that cross
So that we could run to him
That is what I believe is at the end
A loving father with arms outstretched wide
To embrace his prodigal son

The ring slides gently onto her finger
Till death do we part
he promises her
A vision of beauty garbed  in white,
She stands there, with wide blue eyes.
Struggling to take in this sight
He closes his eyes.
As their lips touch
he watches her white cheeks
Start to blush
He smiles, knowing that this woman is his bride.
The beauty of holy matrimony.
The fusing of two hearts.
A covenant made to one another
To love and never part
But in the rush of it all
I guess we forgot
To cherish and care for
Instead of casting in our lots.
Men, lead your houses with love
And when troubles come
Pick up your Bible
Instead of your bag
Women, support him
And when times get tough
Start caring
Instead of quitting
You are one spirit
Not just two bound by words
And when there are problems
Look to The Lord not the world
Marriage is a mirror to Gods love for us
And gives us a glimpse into that blessed day
When Jesus will see his bride lifted up.
He bled for that day
He took all of her sins away
Just so he could love her in this magnificent way
A vision of beauty garbed in white.
His scars were for her
He took on the torment of the world for her.
He wiped away every tear
And whispered in her ear
You are so much more than all of this
More than that blade on your wrist
More than those pills clenched in your fist
More than what the world made you believe you were
You are beautiful and you are blessed
you are a princess
That is getting dressed
For her glorious wedding day.
This is how it is meant to be.
This is the standard we are meant to meet.
Love doesn't have terms and conditions
It doesn't require complete perfection.
So If they cannot love your flaws
Then they aren't capable of loving your all.
So when the day comes for you to say "I do"
Make sure it's to someone who loves you for you.
After 50 years
She stood by his bed
His eyes were full of terror
Not of what he was facing
But of facing it without her
Both of their eyes were full of tears.
After a lifetime together
His promise was fulfilled
She sobbed " wait for me"
And he answered " haven't I always"
Then with his dying breath he promised her
Till death and then forevermore.

She paints her face
With bright blues and greens
Wearing them out for the world to see
She strides down the streets
So proud of her masterpiece
But they hate it
They tell her that's not right
The colors are too happy and bright
So the next day she creates a palette
Of pastel hues and somber blues.
Yet they're still not satisfied
Those colors are not appealing to the eyes
And she believed their lies.
Her tears wash away all her failed tries
And she paints one more time.
She splatters grey on her cheeks
And paints her mouth black to hide the white of her teeth
She became what they wanted her to be
And for the rest of her life she wonders why can't I just be me

The blade is drawn across her porcelain skin.
She screams as her weak attempts to heal herself fail again.
One for every imperfection.
They line up like tally marks
Counting off the cruel delusions
That haunt her in the dark.
Their stones broke through her
Like plates crashing on the floor.
Now the red cracks are spreading
As she fails to reach the door.
And in the quiet of the night she shatters.

The end of the gun is pressed against his head.
He weeps As he remembers all of those who fed
Those indecencies that have devoured him.
There is nothing left
He is an empty husk
He took out everything that they didn't like
And placed it at their feet asking is this enough
And It never was
So he kept carving to become something they were pleased with
Something they could actually look at
Until he realized they had taken all of it
So He had to take the chance
That this gun was the way to gain their acceptance
This was what they always wanted
And he would give it to them
The last remaining part of him
And with a loud bang he shatters.

This is our generation
Filling our emptiness
With the realization
Of our weakness
We are makeshift puzzles of perverted desires and empty holes.
Never quite being whole.
Placing idols and obsessions as our foundations.
Eventually it all falls apart,
But out of the dark
Rose a cross.
Bringing hope for healing
And completing
The holes that had been there since the beginning.
Light floods through the cracks
That acted as maps
To our wandering souls.
Once tracing the way
To destruction
Now leading to a rebirthing
Into the life of one made whole.
There is hope in the road less taken.
For in it one finds home.