My heart is mine to rule. My life is mine to spend.
My soul is mine to stain. My mind is mine to end.
I shall grant no quarter, to fancies without order.
Fairy tales, I name them—fools, the ones who claim them.
Though reason may be theirs, though logic may be sound,
Fools I still will call them—their whispers, I will drown.
I will not heed their reasons, for reason I reject.
I will not grant them audience; their pleas, I shall forget.
Wicked, cruel, deceivers—all who claim faith’s name,
I blind my eyes against their love, for sight would bear me shame.

Yet still this hound pursues me in comment and in creed,
Soft-speaking of a Love unknown, my tears begin to bleed.
In painted dreams He haunts me, with visions rich and bright,
Where life and purpose bloom, in hues I dare not write.
His voice like water calls me, it soothes, it lulls, it sings.
Yet I will not be conquered—I will not bow to kings!
I steel my heart against Him, I bar the door with pride,
For though the song is lovely, I must not step inside.

He's writ his sonnets on my soul, yet I shall tear them free,
For though my heart may hunger, I will not let it be.
Let me be a dust speck—a fleeting breath of clay.
Let me rot in comfort until I meet decay.
No joy, no peace, no meaning beyond this fleeting spark—
No future shall I fathom; I will not fear the dark.

Too harsh, too cruel, too simple, this writ upon my soul.
My pride will suffer nothing more than death to be my whole.
I stand upon this nothing, unshaken and alone,
A throne of silent echoes, a heart as hard as stone.

Yet echoes of that singing still haunt the air I breathe,
And whispers trace a hollow space, where certainty should be.

I walk the middle line,
Open to hearing both sides.
Things are rarely black and white,
That’s something you’ll find.
There’s always nuance,
Though people may deny,
Open your mind,
And realize,
That perhaps you aren’t always right.
So many petty fights,
For “rights”
Stirring up so much strife,
For what?
Why can’t we just live life?
I try,
To be open minded,
And walk the middle line.
Always scouring the desert for nuance,
And nuance I always find.

God is love. 
God created man and woman to love one another, 
You and I have a choice,
But we live in a fallen world, where your choice might not align with God's will, but He still loves us.
God calls us to love one another as He has loved us
We are to unite, not divide. 
To love, not to hate. 
To encourage, not discourage. 
To help those less fortunate than oneself. 
To give hope to those who need it
To pray at all times. 
God is sovereign, but he uses us to be His hands and feet...
I am not the healer, God is, but I can be a vessel for His healing love here on earth through relationships
...
And through poetry?!

A core belief is a thing you can lean into with no second thought
You trust in it's way of leading you
Stretching those nerves
cracking knuckles to haunt your neighbor

Pearl bracelet hanging low, not even trying to hug your arm
Calming your fingers from picking at that hangnail
It’s an annoying habit with a millisecond of relief

Blisters from sharpening those pencils,
for a battle with your notebook.
Letters you don't know, when they'll attack, in what shape or form
A blister you'll have to work around, the angst gives you space for more hangnails picking

The space between your fingernail and your next endeavor is a leap of struggle
or a buffet of choices which in all realness is just a lot of overthinking as a slow road to insanity

My core belief is an quivering tree of question marks
I think it represents the mindset
to begin anything with a clean slate

Have no expectations, then you won’t be disappointed
And you get surprised if it's actually not bad
But as an overthinker with anxiety and autism I stand with the quivering tree of question marks
I begin with a silent question, who is even listening

Trying to catch phrases, pauses, looks, body language
And then the quivering tree switches the question marks to nests of information

Mental notes of things I think is important, learning later that I missed the main point
Maybe the jokes lands a bit late
It’s okay, I get there in the end

A tree is a main point for endless branches and leaves
The real gold is the process you can’t see
The roots
The roots with its wings that never sleeps
Constantly expanding, learning and growing even when others only sees what the tree lets it see

A core belief of
a pessimist
a lingering friendship
a healing wound
a riptide

It's unbearable to hear the blind speak of light
Or the dead teaching the dead how to live
And liars affirming liars with yet more lies
But alas inescapable is this babelic cacophony
I run, far into the wilderness, but woe upon me clings
Thus I close my eyes, shut my ears, seal my tongue
Wrap myself in the dark depths of desolation
And like the dead, slip into the silence of the void

(A little old lady whispers all alone in the cold. Looking up at the rain filled sky.)

Dear God
You brought me to life from nothing

To try to do something

To share kindness
Compassion and a light for those in the dark

To follow

Then to return home with stories
When my bell you ring

To hear me stand and sing aloud
In the Holy Circle

About all the things I did when I was once alive
In the living gardens of mankind

So keep giving me strength to keep doing so
As I go

Amen

(C) Copyright John Duffy

She told me to believe in forever,
but even the evergreens have lied to me.