Finish the music you're playing.
I'll wait.
I'll never get weary
of hearing the melodies
you and your fingers create.

Finish the canvas you're painting.
My heart
fills up with such pride
inside when I see
how much joy you put into your art.

Finish the poem you're writing.
It's time.
I long for a day when
the grey leaves your mind
and you hit on the perfect rhyme.

Finish the book you started.
It's worth
the pain you'll go through
to do what you love
and gift sweet conception with birth.

Flo 3d

Shared words
Succumbing significance
Among thousands of lines
Was it worth the effort?

A question that arises from time to time and everyone has to answer themselves.

We're all born screaming
While screams echo back
And one day we learn
To hold our screams in check

But the world keeps on screaming
Its groans ignore our reluctance
Tearing through our dreams
Persistently confronting us

The only source of peace for us
Are Jesus' gentle whispers
They serve as a quiet respite
For those who are able to listen
And soon the whispers clarify
The groans from the world around
These aren't cries of anger
But pleas to be unbound

Creation itself cries out
For rescue by its maker
To be allowed to at last fulfil
The purpose it was made for

And so our eyes are opened
To the reason for our screams
We cry with all creation
For a full and final release

And Jesus hears our cries
He's not deaf to our prayers
He'll come again in his glory
With earthshaking fanfares

Our cries will turn to song
Secure in a brand new earth
Creator and creation in harmony
Echoing glad cries of new birth

So a new born baby's screams
Shouldn't come as any surprise
They are simply giving echo
To creation's longing sighs.

See Romans 8:19-23
19 For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.
20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope
21 that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.
22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.
23 Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies.
Vexren4000 May 19

Scars upon mother earth,
On open wound, that festers,
Humans the bacterium.
Thriving and carving away at her,
To pry out precious metals,
Glorified rocks and stones,
Mother nature forever wounded,
For some impotent human creation.

Ennovy May 17

In the beginning
men birthed gods
creators of all and everything

Gods with and without faces
unreachable in life yet close in mind

All need to be perfect for gods
yet they ignore the fact that
they could be their own

Hannah Jones May 6

How can I dare to lift my pen and try to capture
what Your own hand has created?
You, who danced on the waters
when there was naught
Yet You lacked nothing
in Your perfection.

How can my brush hope to portray
that which Your own hand has designed?
You, who formed the heavens and the earth
Who pushed waters from waters,
mountains from valleys,
light from darkness,
and said “It is good.”

How can my voice hope to sing
of that which You spoke into existence?
You, who breathed life into the stars,
the waters,
the earth and sky alike
Whose laughter bellowed through the cosmos
and delighted in the simplest wonders,
the most intricate marvels,
joyous all the while.

The only portrait I can cultivate
while doing Your creation justice
is myself.
I, whom Your own hand has crafted,
whom You Yourself breathed life into
every fiber of existence I call my own
I, who bear Your image
Your mark
I am all I can offer
for it is what You have given me.

And You say “It is very good,”
for this is all You desire.

“The end of my labors has come. All that I have written appears to be as so much straw after the things that have been revealed to me.” -St. Thomas Aquinas, after receiving a divine revelation.

Go away and, come back, when it's done
an artist, and their work, focused, on an unseen sun

Burning the purpose, inside their head
on canvas, glass, or clay, words on page, now said

Please understand, as not wanting anyone to know
of looking like a fool, at an unassembled show

It's art at it's finest, the puzzle, how it's made
the artist's fears and doubts, placed upon, display

I don't like people watching me glass, or poetry.
I imagine a lot of artists are like this :)

Beautiful, balance,
basically made
from necessity

A planet of fire,
stabilizing a chaos of gas and dust- amazingly,
fashioned creation

A home
to beings purposed to survive,
from lowest crustacean,
to enigmatic leaders of beasts
and nations

Kimi Sanchez Apr 29

Does the universe play favorites
I know it is happy to have me
It is happy for my brother
And for its every single creation
But my god, its smile
When it looks at you
Scientists will never truly know
Why the stars burn
Why galaxies form
Why the universe expands
But I do
And it does
And it was never sorry

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