Still Night, Still Soul

Echoes of their words take the air, in thoughtless haste they say thoughtless things. But the trees, wordless, hold a million thoughts. Raising their shivering limbs to eternal depths of sky. The stars are listening and they smile, singing back in silent harmony. In rapture I also listen, watching. Trees and stars my kin rather than people.

Emotions Have Their Wont And Way.

Emotions have their wont and way
Today I will make of the sky and sea
Trees and melodious winds
A bitterest enemy

Whom tomorrow
I would claim most readily
(And claiming make them so)
Friends of the chummiest sort

If I should see you today
I would skip and smile
And dance over your way
Because I like you very much

But an hour hence
Afflicted by many an unwanted thought
Our friendship has lost all chance
For my mind cannot shed confusion

If one day I take a vow
Repenting of all my sin
And before God humbly bow
Committing again to follow him

It is not long
But days, but moments
Like a forgotten love song
All I meant I no longer mean

Fickle in each choice
Fickle in each mood
Emotions raise their voice
And foolishly I listen

Writings Needn't Make Sense.

I wouldn’t beg you have a heart.. I wouldn't ask you to share the same joy they seem to sing. But don’t pretend in your darling way, to hold such magic in your steps. Don’t pretend you feel the breeze whistling through the boughs. Don’t pretend the sunshine make your dizzy smile to be dizzier still. Splendid realization of life is not a pre-requisite to a making of a life. Just don’t play a farce for something you can only pretend to understand. I walk on the gravel paths, because they crunch beneath my feet. I take the longer way, to let the blue sky make amber my thoughts. I give my eyes a smile to meet the smiles in expressions of the same. But if you don’t… please don’t. If you can’t feel a Robin as she sings up in the sky, don’t hum as if you knew her song. The mountains send my brains a flutter in thoughts of grand possibilities. But if to you they melt into a cloudy sky that speaks only of how the temperatures may drop, please don’t gaze hence and pretend you see it too. Your dreary reality I’d much rather face, than my dreams insincerely spoken from your lips.

Cloudy Reflections.

the clouds have come back
with their voices
they beg an audience
they will give the trees their mask
in oppression clothe them


more like death
this complete surrender
to the serenity of sky
more like death
than sleepy peace


I suppose we all need rest
even endless encores end.
trees do stop and whisper
secrets well hidden in mirth
make plain their stories now
when the white skies still
the heavy air.

Portrait of an Evening.

There's a certain kind of an evening that now and then falls over this place. A certain kind of an evening that I have gotten to know fondly in hours of strolling --alone-- just as the sun kisses the clouds where they drift in loftiness above the horizon. Warm winds pulling--playing with your clothing and hair as they gently sweep in from their hidden stores somewhere, perhaps, where the distant mountains roll themselves out into the surrounding desert.
The sun's kiss makes the clouds happy I think, because they blush all mellow and pinkish in among their moody shades of grey. They come out like embroidery against a sky of the most poignant blue, not blue-blue, but something with tints of green and yellow in it's brilliancy. Only brilliant until it meets the sky just above you, where the sombre black of night overcomes it's influence.
Black birds and sparrows (that look like black birds) against the light of sky wing their ways around from building to tree and bush to solitary benches-- frolicking almost, rather than really flying.
The moon gazes down from the darkness opposite of the horizon like a pure and holy soul in a world of sin. Beautiful, silent, but with it's own glow of joy... No, perhaps not joy per-say, more like peace. Wonderful-abiding-happy peace as it looks down and almost I can hear it say "I am content."

How can my soul help but echo this murmur of the moon as my dazzled eyes watch the evening make music around me? No people, no noise. A wholesome lack of anything but the simple beauty of the glorious creation around me. God made those clouds, God made those sparrows, God made this wind, God made the sprinkle of stars just peeking out from the shadowy sky above me.

"I am content."

On evenings like this I answer a call, not to socialize, not to study, not to work. But to stroll and stroll and stroll, and dance with a breeze and gaze upon a moon and be dazzled by a sunset.

Reflection on a Birthday.

You could have found her yesterday sitting on the floor of an over-crowded storage closet underneath a back staircase at the end of a cluttered dormitory hall. She sat on the floor and her smile was cheesy as she listened to her family singing “Happy Birthday” to her over the phone. She had woken up to a room decked out by her roommates for this momentous day, a day on which she would turn twenty and cross forever the threshold from childhood to something hideously like adulthood.

Yesterday was the absolutely craziest, most insane birthday I have ever greeted yet. After a slow sort of dragging morning sitting around, watching the freshman come in and socializing with upperclassmen, my afternoon exploded with work. Almost a non-stop go-go-go from 2:00 until midnight. And yet, as tired and overwhelmed as I felt (with an incredible desire to stick my head in a hole in the ground somewhere and scream) it was an exhilaration in the end that overtook me. And my birthday simultaneously occurring with opening day of college was all it should have been. We didn’t find time for a Baskin Robbin’s ice-cream run, I was able to see my brother for a total of 57 seconds, and the misplacedness I felt in and among all the day’s activities would be hard to be expressed.

And yet, what real difference does all these mere circumstances make? The important thing is— I turned twenty years old yesterday. And I feel older. And I have a million plans and aspirations for this year. Mostly just a permeating, new, and fresh desire to be everything and all that God wants me to be. What that looks like? I know in part, and for the rest I can but wonder ecstatically.

I know it means being less selfish, more willing to give of myself to others— even at my own cost, at my own discomfort. I know it means receiving much much more wisdom from God, walking in the light of His word and making the right choices. I know it means pushing myself far beyond my comfort zone, and seeing what wonders God will work.
I know it means being a better friend.
I know it means being a better roommate.
I know it means being a better student.
A better this, a better that. Seeking betterment through a greater realization of my fragility and weakness so that I may claim His strength more and more.

20.
Really, people, I’m a 20 year-old SOPHOMORE in college and if that’s not old I don’t know what is— and I can already feel the greater responsibility, the greater call for maturity in my life.
Which is slightly crazy cause I can’t help but remember what a sinful mess of immaturity I am on my own.

I can’t get this verse out of my head these days;
Psalm 40:17 “But I am poor and needy; yet the Lord thinketh upon me.”

No Longer Am I There, I'm Here.

I lay there, gazing up at the sky, just as evening was overcoming the day.
I went, fleeing from the busyness of day, out into the yard to catch a little moment of silent serenity. "Two days, two days, two days until I leave." And then an airplane spilt the sky above me, slender and white with little lights all over it. I watched it slowly make it's way across, and it seemed but a moment, and I was on it, or another one quite similar. Suddenly my two days were gone.
I didn't realize saying goodbye would be so hard. The act of leaving was bad enough-- but when it came time to hug siblings and parents and make all the proper 'farewells', I could only seem to manage a murmured goodbye and a tight hug as the tears rolled down my cheeks and my throat closed up a little and wouldn't let me do much of anything. I didn't realize goodbye would be so hard. I couldn't even say it properly, and oh, I wanted to say so much more!

But I'm here now. And all that is becoming more and more like a distant memory. The current is grabbing me again, taking me with it. People are everywhere now, and I talk to them. I work hard, and I hope desperately that I'll be able to get all my stuff out of storage soon so I can unpack properly. Already this life is greeting me with surprise after surprise and most of them terribly pleasant.

I think I shall survive. And more that that- I have an odd suspicion I shall enjoy it.