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Alyssa Underwood Jan 2016
I would have taken the easy path
But that would leave no room for glory
I would have picked out a comfortable life
But that isn't God’s kind of story

I would have followed a prettier road
But missed the most beautiful way
I would have clung to familiar things
But lived out my days in the grey

I would have chosen what’s stable
But grown cold, apathetic and bored
I would have sought out earth’s riches
But lost all that in heaven is stored

I would have liked more successes
But not learned so quickly of grace
I would have seen myself praised more
But given up knowing God’s face

I would have tied all my loose ends
But not known it’s He Who brings peace
I would have wanted for happier times
But traded a joy that can’t cease

I would have opted for normal
But not tasted rare delicacies
I would have preferred a man’s love
But been robbed of Divine intimacy

He’s chosen for me the high road
More jagged, more narrow and steep
So now I must travel this difficult way
Ever knowing it leads to the deep

Now I must choose to cherish His path
And trust Him to walk with me there
Now I must hasten to take up my cross
The fellowship of His sufferings to share

For one day this life will be over
And all my afflictions will end
It is then I will see what all this is for
In my Bridegroom, my Savior, my Friend
~~~

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
~ 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

~~~
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
He sat by a furnace of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore.
And closer He bent with a searching gaze,
As He heated it more and more.

He knew He had ore that could stand the test
And He wanted the finest gold,
To mold as a crown, for the king to wear,
Set with gems of price untold.

So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Tho’ we fain would say Him "nay."
And watched the dross that we had not seen
As it melted and passed away.

And the gold grew brighter and yet more bright,
But our eyes were dim with tears,
We saw but the fire, not the Master’s hand,
And questioned with anxious fears.

Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow
As it mirrored a form above,
That bent o’er the fire, though unseen by us
With a look of ineffable love.

Can we think it pleases His loving heart
To cause us a moment's pain?
Ah, no! But He sees through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.

So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure.
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat
Than was needed to make it pure.

~ A.F. Ingler
~~~
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
O Prize of heaven, Treasure of my heart
Let me suffer, if only I may seek Thee
Let me fail, if only I may find Thee
Let me give up all, if only I may gain Thee
For Thou and Thou alone art the Prize
"I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.  Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."
-Philippians 3:10-14
she had flaked away her memories
and stepped up
with a ponderous heart,
held by two gentle hands;
and saying goodbye, did she,
as she slipped off her skin,
for the moment blood stains
the kumari's tender soul,
bereaved, will she become,
for a goddess never bleeds.

her feet shall never touch
the tattered, ***** ground,
for it engulfs and devours
and burns off the kumari's flesh.
holding her pure spirit, and
  accepting a cruel death sentence,
her quivering soul
cupped but a glimmer of hope,
as the fire would flicker
and lash and whip
as her skin flakes again,
and the kumari vanishes.

but, if she remains unscathed,
blood shall be drawn,
and the gods will tremble and
her body will collapse.
the world will consume her
once again.

a kumari's blood,
drawn, now at death,
trembling and alone,
had she sobbed tears of joy,
for no longer the weight
must she bear in her heart,
of being a kumari;
but a kumari is she,
and the world has not chose her,
but she has chosen to be.

she had withered away,
heart no longer ponderous,
she stepped up.
and her wishes from within
passed on to the fearful others,
held by two gentle hands, and
with a gentle flutter of her eyes,
next to her charcoal stained skin,
had her heart stopped;
for her bejeweled crown had been stained with blood,
and the kumari realized that
she had died long ago.
i worked really ******* this
Hadiy Syakir Nov 2017
So you want
to solve a mystery?
tell me, tell me
with all honesty

"Do you want to solve a mystery?"

I could tell you all the pain
darkness, sorrow, eruption
of eternal gloom
but we will become
nothing less than just
dust in this room
our souls will collide
as if there is no end to it
our bones will crumble
one by one,
shoulder to waist
waist to toe
oh, this is all just for a show!

the suffering, the awakening
give me a run for the money
rain on my parade
I know nothing but
we are all slowly sinking.

Mystery, mystery
what good will that bring?

So if I ask you,

"Do you still want to solve a mystery?"

What will you pry
out of your lovely cemetery?
Nereo Cafolla Jul 2018
Over the icy hills you hear a breath;
As this field sinks in the frigid blue
It spreads in the soul a fear of death.
The hope to return still lives in you.

How can you be so blind not to see?      
That even your worst foe could be      
                  
Your best friend behind these lines.       
A scream drowns in the darkness,
Now he is rotting as the moon shines.
There are no heroes in this grey mess.
Is it worth to waste human meat?
What is victory but a lucky defeat?
RK Aug 2018
Even in the depths of medication and depression she saw a glimmer of light , She must have! I knew her children meant everything to her. Her husband held fort, through thick and thin and I witnessed him. We helped him at times when he too was worn down, visiting his wife in hospital, tme after time, after time...

He couldn't go to work, not for a long time. The nature of her depression so black, he made sure his children were protected, fully engaging with the important issues in life.   Loving care, being present, showing strength at his best.

He managed on social welfare, knowing well what  his priorities were.  He took them to school, their lunch boxes filled with nourishment. The main ingredient being love. And he collected them too, with a loving smile and huge hug.

I felt so proud of him.

And in school they did well,
a straight A - in every subject.  In the later years they went to university, and excelled beyond excellence. He was always right beside them. Finding the way whatever way he could.

I felt so proud of him.

It was depression that stole her beautiful soul. We did our best to lift her, and we did.  We saw the best in her,  And she knew we cared and loved her.  Later she took a stoke that fully paralyzed her.

He continued to care for her at home. Even when his own health failed he tarried on and he prayed that God take her, before him. He was amazing!  When I'd ask him how he was doing, his  eyes would tell me, but his words said;  ”oh! I'm just fine”
And I so admired him.

The Elegy...
Their son spoke in soft loving words about his Mother's life and the goodness of his father care.

" If I can be half the man my dad  is...

Half the father my father is ...

Half the husband my father is ...

Then I am blessed”

And in the silence, you could hear a pin drop!

Peace
Thank you for reading. I'm doing my best to see all sides of life and death. And I feel writing is cathartic .
Peace
Aryeh Levine Jun 2018
There is no shortage of mystery here
For us, conceived in dying suns
There is no shortage of mystery here
For tiny dancing 0's and 1's

There is no shortage of suffering
Everything is being eaten
there is no shortage of suffering
In our mind's eye only, we see Eden

But there is no shortage of mystery
simple matter makes minds melt
There is no shortage of mystery
The holy spirit is matter felt

We suffer for no reason
And for the same reason, we play
For everything, there is a season
But it doesn’t always work that way

Behold the world is stranger still
Are you sure you know enough to worry
You have not begun to understand
If you are not a ball of tears and fury

And you have not begun to finish
Until your laughter fills the air
There is a field beyond our minds
And I will meet you there
Daisy Marrow Aug 2013
From the beginning
we were born to die.
There is no starting over.
There are no second chances.
With death carved on our skin
how could we live a normal life?

You could run but you'll one day run out of breath.
It's just a game.
You hide your pain and sorrow.
Save it for another day
when everything just falls apart and you can't pick it up.

Medicine and alcohol keeps you awake
As you hunt your demons and monsters.
You could choose to die but then this world would fall apart.
You give others that second chance,
you give them time to run and escape
while you slaughter their monsters,
and **** their demons instead.

You've got blood on your hands
and a soldier's heart.
Your brain is beautiful
just corrupted.
You smile to stay strong
and your humor hides your internal scars.

In the end
you'll look back on your youth
and notice you died a long time ago.
You never had the chance to be happy.
You'll never know the feeling of growing old with your lover
because all your lovers are either buried below your feet,
or somewhere up in the sky with the stars.
It's not that far,
one day you'll be with them.
Then, you'll finally be able to rest your tired hands.
Supernatural
Sam & Dean Winchester
Mother Mary, Mother Mary, whisper in my ear.
Give me something tangible to touch –
Something audible to hear.
Send me a sign, so I know I am alive
I want to know it is not in vain that I let this world inscribe
This mark upon my soul. Give me a sign to make me whole.
Help me find peace through the chaos.
Just let me know you’re in control.

Mother Mary, Mother Mary, whisper in my ear.
I know each breath could be my last –
Yet, my death I do not fear.
I’ve been shackled by my questions
And I’ve watched them as they’ve grown.
I searched endlessly for answers –
When all along I should have known
That the answers I seek are not ones that can be found.
So I pray that you’ll whisper. I pray I’ll hear the sound.
I pray that death holds more than what we bury in the ground.

It’s been nearly twenty years, and somehow I still have faith.
But I fear the truths I know are lies; I fear that virtue is a waste.
Still, I wait for your whisper, Mother Mary, Mother Mary.
Despite how much I’ve suffered; this burden I still carry.
Because I trust this world holds reason.
I trust my struggle wasn’t worthless.
Mother Mary, Mother Mary, I pray I suffer for a purpose.
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