I remember when I was a child.
My parents would tell me tales.
Of men dealing with demons.
In the crossroads right out of town.

And I remember quietly.
I had walked down that path too.
Not for money, talent, or fame.
I wanted to know what happiness was like.

And I never knew if I got my wish.
It always felt like things went south.
From within the abandoned crosswalks.
I could feel only sad eyes staring me down.

I felt the whispers and warnings.
Every foggy afternoon.
When I'd wish for the man to supposedly appear.
Just for a simple request.

"I only want to be happy and loved."
It seemed to echo into the neverending winter.
But I waited anyway.
I had barely any warmth to spare.

But nothing came and so I left.
And I felt the pity trail behind my back.
As I walked down the path.
That I decided to stroll down.

And my life continued to go down hill.
I am no longer so young.
I have become accustomed to this world.
To all its cruel games.

I have been broken and shattered
Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over....I have forgetten.
I am tired.

So I came back to the crossroads.
No more warmth left in my body.
I did not come with a wish this time.
Only seeking a question.

"Why did you not grant my wish?"
And I waited again by the trails.
For anybody to appear now.
Anybody who could give me answers.

"What did I do wrong?"
The trees looked at me with misery.
The clouds gave me it's soft tears.
The mist hugged me as tightly as it could.

And from within the forest.
I could hear it's voice at last.
"You did nothing wrong."
I am shattering by the seams.

"I gave you what you asked for."
Then why am I so unhappy.
"Because happiness never lasts."
Am I always going to feel hopeless?

"No."
Then what am I meant to do?
"Nothing."
I don't understand.

"Because happiness will never mean anything without the struggle."

But I am shattered now, practically dust.
"But a phoenix is also reborn from it's ashes."
I no longer carry anymore warmth.
"But a fire can always be rekindled."

Is that all my life will be worth for?
"Life is always a struggle, it is survival."
But it is not what I asked for.
"No one chooses to have it willingly."

Am I meant to live on?
"Certainly you are."
Why? Why am I meant to be here.
"Because you want to."

What If I don't want to be here anymore.
"You have meaning you always will."
I don't understand.
"Your struggle and success to survive is enough to show for it."

And I could see the soot on my feet gather.
That was when the howling stopped.
I stood there still with no answers.
As the sun began to rise.

But I had a gut feeling I would not return to the crossroads again.

-Rain

7/16/2021

If I could speak to you
I’d tell you how special you are
I’d tell you that what makes you cool
Is that I can see the love of Jesus shining

If I could give you counsel
I’d tell you how valuable you are
I’d tell you how infinitely important it is
To wait patiently on God’s will for your life

If I could ask you a question
I’d want an answer from your heart
What is your pressing passion, I’d ask
What drives you, what things do you love?

If I could watch you
I’d want to see you smile
I’d want you to be safe and happy
I’d want to watch you live your dreams

If I weren’t so self-conscious
I’d be confident and encouraging
I’d want to be intentional and inviting
I’d want to be the person I’m meant to be

What does it mean to take a chance?
What does it mean to make a change?
What does it mean to be strange,
and why is it so scary?
"Where should I go? What should I do?"
"How should I know? I'm not you."
So many questions. So little time.
I guess the good thing is,
you get to decide the answers

Maybe.

I don't see how it could get better.
But I don't see how it could be worse either.
Am I trying too hard or not enough?
What if it's both?
What if all the answers
are in the space between?
We always say there's 2 sides to every story. What if the truth is in the middle?

With mixed conversations aligned inside
our expectations don't always comply.
What could be wet could also be dry,
when we see other options offered in mind.

Hesitance often slows the path we possess
but a personal pace sustains motivation, and anyone's race can turn about face.
Is it really such a lonely road for an individual to search the unknown, testing their growth.

We usually follow what seems set out in front, concurrent ideas and beliefs seep through us.
The leaves of the trees determine the falls, as time spaced apart often changes our attitude.

The landscape of life will transform with a call, through those cycles we bind to vary our mindset. Lessons for all are shown but not always learnt, as repetitive tones tend to compliment worth.

Listen to the figures above, providing purpose when we're feeling deep or down on our luck. The answers can vary and we have to choose, but there are no limits as we continue on through.

Stories older than kings,
these exist as stories told with old ones,
imaginings of messengers,
seers saying this is the vision, made as plain
as pi, point, plumb, line, and wall,

man, made in the imagination
man imagines, and affirms,
this I die to know, I am made
to be a doer of this,
listen