Moving On

I take a deep breath and remember what it felt like to be gasping for air. I lace up my boots and look back to when I could see bare feet walking across jagged rocks. I slip on my coat and think back to when I was cold and helpless. I look into the mirror and see a face, older then I remember, worn by many travels, heartbreaks, laughs, and meaningful conversations. I focus in on the eyes and can't help but remember a time when I saw unselfish love, viewed pain, witnessed strength, and felt hope. I reach for the door, on the other side lies another journey, more experiences and soon to me memories like these.

Parking Garage Prayer

Each time someone one walks across this bridge alone, reveal to them that You have not forgotten. Each time someone walks this campus and feels homesick, show them that You love. Each time someone looks at the lake, show them that Your beauty is endless. Each time a student tries to find a parking spot and there are none, show them that You are patient. Each time a group gathers on this campus, show them what it feels like to have community with You.

Airport Terminal

Standing headphones in the music plays as I survey the scene. Waiting in the line ahead I see a young couple. She leans in and slides her head up his shoulder, eyes fully locked on the one she loves. As her nose meets his neck I cant help but remember you. How you looked at me, how when you were with me everyone disappeared, how you were to short to reach my lips so you pulled me down to you. The song changes, I am brought back to reality, its time to board the plane.

Underneath It All

Escaping I search for You. I weave in and out increasing my speed with each heart beat, that beats for You. I arrive and open the gate looking down into the glassy mist I jump. Underneath it all I feel alive, my eyes are closed yet I can see the suns rays shine down and warm my body bringing peace to my soul. You are all around me and I feel safe. Down here I move freely like the strumming of a guitar my body moves back and forth as I rise to the surface for a breath of air. As I climb up the ladder and step out of the water, I am leaving more then just a swimming pool, I leave another experience with the one who loves.

Flip the Page

Dancing around in my head I battle as the beats get dropped. I try and synchronize my thoughts to the words spoken but not said. I wish I could tell you it wasn't your fault, I pushed and you wouldn't go, so I pushed some more, not wanting you to go. Why do I do this, this I am not sure, Is it the past that haunts, that causes me to fear, that stops me from loving past this certain point?

Lay Your Healing Hands On Me

Woman wanders the strip unsure, lost, searching, looking for a glimpse of hope. Lay Your healing hands on her. Man speaks loudly, working late tonight much like every night, trying to delay his trip home where he will be alone, always alone. Lay Your healing hands on him. A couple exits the car smiling, laughing, interwound in conversation, so that the rest of the world ceases to exist. Lay Your healing hands on them.

Pier Memories

I sit and listen, one ear hears music the sweet sound of two in perfect harmony, the other listens to the leaves brushing against the hard concrete as the wind carries them away. When the ear listens the mind wanders, back to a time when the night was just right, the moon out in full, lighting the vastness of the ocean, feet immersed in the cold soft sand, heart warmed by one embracing me tightly. For this I am thankful, to the One who created it all.

Moved by Compassion

You speak into my mind, touch my heart, and open my soul. You paint pictures by telling stories so that I may see that all along it was You. You were the painter, the author, the main character and the answer. You were the path, the father that felt compassion, the one who continually grieves for those that do not know. As a tear rolls down, I begin to understand, I begin to change, may this transformation continue to shape, that I may grieve the way you grieve for those whom are lost, that you desperately want found.

Christmas Past

Sitting on the back porch before all have awoke, I find peace in the coldness that ushers its way through the screen door. I find myself reflecting on where I was a year ago, who I was, and wondering if any changes have been made. As I take a sip the warmness moves down my throat and takes rest inside me. You say by standing firm you will gain life. I don't know for how long, but for now those words will permeate in my mind, hoping they will move their way into my heart, so the who I am now may be different from the who I am a year from now.

Stoplight Memories

Stopped at the light the cars pass by followed by the memories. The memories are the last of what I have of you, what I wish I could forget, but what I fear will never leave. What was once taken for granted is missed the most. What was once felt for you, you feel for someone else, and that someone else feels for yet another. The heart is confused and knows not where to turn, hurt in the past and fearful of the future, wanting to be loved and yet guarded so that it can't.

How Can You Feel Anymore

Sometimes when the moment is just right, I close my eyes and can see myself drifting away, separating from this body, The body that I've spent so much time maintaining, the body that I am never satisfied with. I can see my body like roots withering away and what is unleashed is something special, something real, something true. It's me. The me that never wanted to harm or hurt you, the me who wants nothing more to love and be loved.

Dark Wave

Wrapped up the softness of the beds suede comforter protects me from the coldness of the blowing fan. Darkness surrounds me, I envision myself at the bottom of the ocean after being taken under by a giant wave. I wrestle with what is reality and with what I want reality to be. I'm not sure I want to go back. Don't turn on the light, can't I just stay here a little longer.

Incomplete Thoughts From An Incomplete Man

I pick up this pen and the ink hits the paper, not because I have anything to write, but because I must write everything. As I look around I see the the steam rise over a vast field during a hot summer day, straight ahead I find a sunset spreading what's left of its rays across the vast ocean. And still surround by all this beauty I find myself wondering why I feel incomplete. Its not until I let go of myself that these mere pictures hanging on the walls can take on their true shape and meaning. It's not until I give up those wants that I can truly live.

Saturday Afternoon

My feet are tired, I have been wandering for a long time. A few years here, a couple more there, I have never seemed to find home. I sit down now reclined in this soft chair and run my fingers down its armrest as the music echos in the background. My senses are awakened as the aroma of freshly ground coffee escapes behind the counter and out the open door into the busy street, where the palm fronds wave back to me. Some people find beauty in music, some in perfectly painted landscapes, others in well constructed words, but me I find it in people. Not that I don't find beauty in all the above mentioned, cause I do. I just tend to agree with what lead me to spirituality. The desire to believe I was human and that by being human mattered.

Take Off

Take off, we rise. I slip my headphones in and I begin to drift away. The music begins to flow into my ears as my head nods in agreement to the words being sang. I smile when I think of You and how You loved me before I did anything, before I was. Not because of the way I make you feel, but because of who I am and who You are.

7 mile Sunday

The alarm goes off, I awake fatigued. The nights sleep was not sleep at all but a battle in the mind. Empty I awake, fullness is what I search for. I slip the shoes on, as each foot hits the pavement my mind wanders to ease the bodies pain. Where am I going? The path is familiar cause I have traveled it many times before. Sometimes with You sometimes without. Confused I think about last night and wonder what I gave up and what could have been. I have to keep running, faster, so I don't think about the past. As my feet stop moving you tap me on the arm and remind me why I am here, why I am doing what I do, and why I must continue on. Stay strong you say and I reply always.

Thankful

How I am thankful, so very thankful. For You have transformed me, you continually change me. You faithfully chip away hardened deposits of pain and remorse that surround this heart. Because of grace I am beginning to understand, I am able to forgive and be forgiven. You draw me closer to You, closer to understanding.

Are You Ready

Are you ready? Who defines you, who you are, how you feel, how you respond? Deep down lies a desire to be understood, to be known, to be significant. Where does this come from, are they just burning desires of the heart, or a simple confusion of the mind, or much more? Is there a clear cut path to understanding, or can these answers even be answered with knowledge alone? They are all around us, those who think these feelings should be filtered, sometimes suppressed or maybe even ignored. If this is done are you being true to yourself or are you just disregarding what you might not fully understand or want to understand? What is preventing you from searching for your identity, from finding your potential? Are you ready yet?

Day Dream

Sitting on the bench, body fatigued, mind wandering, the scene appears. You approach, noses so close they almost touch, time freezes, background blurs, its just you and me. But this is only for a moment a brief moment. Time has now resumed and we begin to drift apart. I reach out and you follow, our fingers try an meet but they never do. The world has pulled us apart it has called this separation to occur. Back to reality, I stare in the mirror and try to understand, will we meet again, will it last.

Communion

Drained I enter and sit down. It is not long before the words flow and meet me only where You can go, deep inside. I wait until everyone has gone to meet you at the table. I reach into the bowl and am drawn to the piece that is twisted, that is bent, that is not perfect. As I dip the piece it becomes covered, the imperfections can no longer be seen and I begin to be filled. The music starts and begins to flow through my veins which pumps out into my body to send me this feeling of euphoria I now write about. The Spirit has now taken control of my body and the words begin to flow out. The singing turns into a smile, a smile which has been long awaited.