Luke 10:27 NIV Bible
He answered, “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’

The symbol of the Cross is this simple;
A vertical commandment: Love the Lord with everything
A horizontal commandment: Love your neighbor as yourself

And when you put the vertical and horizontal together, you make a cross.
You are then to carry that cross everyday.
And you are to carry that cross to your death.
Just like Jesus did, out of love for His Father and His love for us.

Marking a chapter in your life
With a special ideogram
Or is it?
Does it represent something?

Understood with no words
But some, no meaning at all
So, you just marked a chapter of life
Where you found yourself meaningless

An ideogram with no meaning
Just there for no reason
Like the day you loss,
Fighting yourself

Now left with no meaning at all

When I was a boy,
My heart resembled a rose,
Which could not see chaos,
My innocence did show.

When I became a young man,
The rose, it grew thorns,
Dark, hardened bits formed
When I was made to mourn.

It seemed life handed death to me,
Like it was running out of time,
Running out of time to break me,
That conclusion I did find.

But those deaths have not affected me
Like the living tragedies have,
And the living tragedies drive me closer,
To thoughts I once never had.

Here I am, reaching the end of adolescence,
A time that is meant to form us as people.
Here I am, feeling that I deserve more grief,
That I have always been inherently evil.

The horizon offers much for me,
But I fear it will not come easily.
Then again, it could not be worse
Than what life has dealt me habitually.

So, onward I will march,
As I have done for quite a while.
Though the bullets strike me often,
I will somehow endure this trial.

When I fell into your cave,
Your stalagmites pierced me;
I became impossible to save,
The rock much too deep.

The sun did not shine there,
People did not see me hurt.
They did not see the blood,
How the rock made it spurt.

Some tried to pull me out,
But they all failed upon trying.
My strangled cry became a death shout,
For I was slowly dying.

My body, pulled from the deep cave,
Remained lifeless in your arms;
I had never been saved,
And I met the face of harm.

I was too far gone,
I could not return;
I did not see dawn,
Death I had earned.

When the bracelets that you wear become
symbolic of who you love,
and I wore two while you had none.
Would it matter how these bracelets looked?
If it does:
One was pink, it bore the symbol of Christianity
I had been asked many times if it was
but all it proved was my unconditional sinless love
for you
the other was striped, red and white
while everyone told me it "was so much like me"
I wore it because it "was so much like you"
and by now we had melted into each other.

I suppose we started falling apart when they did,
the first I lost yesterday.

Hungry teeth razors
Slice to scar my hand.
Watching the black symbol redden
Quenches my thirst like a cold beer.
Shield me from their fear;
and with clear eyes,
among socialite imbued rags,
I shall face my pain
Or live a conscious death.

Dragonflies only live for 12 hours. That made me really sad when I thought of one that spent the whole day trapped in my room. It just kept flying into the glass of the window, hopelessly trying to get to what it could see in front of it but never getting there and hitting the invisible wall each time. It kept at this its entire short life until it died.  Then I realised that we do that too.

Light shined through the broken cracks in the sky, illuminating the bitter concrete. It stretched itself across the scattered buildings—some stood while others crumpled under the pressure of having to stand tall, or that's what the light thought, at least. After it had reached every inch of the stained windows, it begged for something nostalgic. It needed to touch skin. The light craved the feeling of life. It had been so long since it had felt some sort of animation, so many times it swept the charred lands—exploring, asking for some sort of companionship, but never a response.

By this time of the afternoon, the sun had gained even more strength and it fully penetrated the thick mist of the clouds. This revitalized the light. It gave it some sort of immaculate purpose—some reason to produce beauty for its visitors. What visitors? Where had they gone? Where had they been all the years that the light spent mourning for them? Exhausting his energy time and time again to hound across the streets for that moment of aggrandizing glory—finding what it had searched ever so longly for.

Was this all in vain? Were the constant endeavors of the light only a mere distraction from the one reality it tried so hard to escape? No. No, it couldn't be. Years and years it had put the effort of fighting through the clouds and the storms and the rain and the mist and the fog and the towers and the trees and bushes and yet, it has nothing to show for its deeds. The cruel reality of life or rather the cruel reality of the lack there of life?

“Give up,” the buildings whispered morning after morning. The words, traveling though the air at super sonic speed, caught the light as it reflected through the city. The light—usually unaffected by the words—took notice to them now. It slowed for the first time in years to the point that it stopped halfway through the city. Thoughts creeped out from the air around it; particles floating whispered mockingly to the light.

It had accepted failure. There was no living tissue that it could grace, no child that it could brush its warm fingertips upon. It ascended back to the sky and ignored the rest of the comments that the buildings and storms left it with. For years it hid away in space. The earth was dark. Revolving in endless circle with no clear purpose, no real reason to be afloat.

Time continued to pass. The Light lost track of it and drifted further and further from the sun and earth until it was becoming consumed by the darkness. It made no attempt to rid itself of the evil latching to it; rather, it embraced it. This continued on for eternity until the light could no longer see its own glow. Its only companionship was found in the silence of the deep space.

A cry. A cry from Earth rang out loud. The light could hear it. It struggled desperately to escape the hands of the night—ripping away feverishly. Chained by the fingers of solidarity, it would only move a little until it was brought back to its prison. The cry became louder. It demanded help. The light could do nothing but listen. The cry stopped.

Death. And with that the light followed.

With the red moon rising
People are dying
Symbolizing
The birth of a new world