From Anon

    "I used to build dreams on you. I used to laugh because of you, even though you were thousands of miles away. I used to cry because of you, even though we were days apart. I used to think of you every day, even though you were gone. How little has changed. Of all the people who stepped all over me and ripped me apart, why does it have to be you? And why must you be so innocent? The very faultless cause of my hurt. How would I, how could I, ever hold against you that which I asked for?"
~Anon

A Letter of Thanks

   Many ones have that connection with something that saves them from the very brink of total darkness. At times it may be a person, other times perhaps it is an object. Even an ideal. Something that pulls heart and mind back up to fight anew. Here is a note of thankfulness to such savior.

   When I am weak, you know before even myself. When I suffer, you suffer, and when I ache, you ache. My years are yours, and my own outcries your yourself utter with your own voice. Grateful I am for such things which many do not know. Even in debt my soul rests for such tender kindness from you. As a gift to one weighed down you have proven to be, a refuge from disheartening things. Refreshment for my soul and a healing balm your words are day and night, a true source of joy in a dark world.

   Thank you for never giving up when I give up, and for never leaving me when I've left you. Thank you for being faithful when my faith falters, and for staying close when I've sought another. Thank you for watching me when I seek to hide, and for searching me out when I wanted to be lost.

   For not giving up when I've given up, for loving me when I haven't loved you, for forgiving me when I didn't deserve for reaching for my hand when I've pulled it back, and for opening my eyes when I've stubbornly shut them.

   Thank you for being my unconditional Companion.
Ever Loyal.

~Trevor

The Hero Always Alone When the Battles are Done

I am- The Strength, the Pillar, the Support, The Savior. The Hero always alone when the battles are done. But... When all the beasts have been faught, all the battles won, and all the broken hearts are mended... Who will be there to save their hero? Why am I always the Savior? Why am I always the one with sword in hand, sweat on his brow, and blood on his face? Who is going to save me? Who will fight my beasts, win my battles, and mend my broken heart? Who is going to save me? Who is going to fight for me?

A Lonely Path

I walk alone and carry my load, without a tear or even a groan.
Sometimes it seems just a bit too far...Sometimes it feels just a bit too hard.

But I'll walk alone, and I'll carry my load.
Without a tear, or even a groan.
And if it seems just a bit too far, or if it feels just a bit too hard,

I'll follow my path even though alone, 
With my weakened heart as strong as stone.

Our mind was created to learn and to grow with experience. However, more is needed to truly fulfill such potential. Time alone proves not enough. Experience alone proves not enough. Knowledge alone...not enough.
Spirit.
A mindset of growth, expansion, of seeking new Skylines. Those with Age, Experience, and Knowledge but no Spirit do not possess the same character. They cannot, or choose not to, see the world as it was meant to be seen. They are limited. They are hindered. 
Even one with little experience in life can soar further and faster than others if he has such a Spirit. One of flight, of adventure. May we never limit ourselves, but press ever on with Spirit and unbreakable Trust and Courage in our God.

~T

~A Forgotten Element~

Nothing more than a personal opinion:
There is an element that is frequently overlooked, but never powerless. It is ignored when inconvenient, and brushed aside when it conflicts with the imperfection that tries to engulf it. This element is largely forsaken by the bulk of humanity, but lays beneath the surface of everything we do, defining who each and everyone of us are. It rises above, and proves to be superior to, all cultures and all ideals. It is a perfect, boundless culture of the Old World, The Human Element. 

As imperfect as it is mistakenly understood as, this Human element defines what a true culture is, one of perfection and diversity. Based off of the true purpose of humans, that of being an unending, highly intelligent race that both love the life they've been given and praise the Father that gave them this life. A perfect race that cares for each other on a higher realm than all the other creatures around them. A precious, special possession of the Celestial One. A perfect race graced and blessed with the qualities of the one source of Life, Emotion, and Perfection, Jehovah himself. How amazing we truly are, as humans.

Just a passing thought.

~T

(Vazquez Sounds) Adele- Rolling in the Deep

Nice video of a very talented couple of kids. Doing a cover of Adele's "Rolling in the Deep", they do a wonderful job at it, wouldn't you agree?
I love that little girl's voice! And the boys are good on the instruments, too. You can see mister drums spinning his sticks like a boss, haha!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7UFm6ErMPU&list=FLDdxVGCD017DpZiYvLyn5FA&feature=mh_lolz

Check it out!

You Have it Anyway

I wrote this song that has almost unfittingly somber lyrics. How so? Well the song itself is rather upbeat, and seems to take on a personality of 'bitterly grateful'. Making any sense? Maybe not. Maybe I should just shut it and let the song explain itself.

It seems colder now than I remember.
It seems darker now, or is it me? 
It feels heavier now than I remember. 
And it looks colorless now that you're gone.

You might as well just rip my heart from my chest.
How suitable since you have it anyway.


It seems lonelier than I could have imagined.
It feels hollower than I could have known.
They never told me this part. 
...They never told me this part.

You might as well just rip my heart from my chest.
How suitable since you have it anyway.


How suitable since you have it anyway.



There she be. The 'finished' product. Nothing too amazing, but at least it's something. Hm. Maybe I'll include a rendition of it, hm? We'll see. *thumbs up*

~T

Dreamer

"What? A picture? Is that even allowed?"
"I thought this blog was about the written arts! I say nay!"
"How could you do this!?"
Mutiny, I say! It's my blog and I'll do as I see fit! And I see this to be fit! Muwahaha!

So, I snapped a picture of it because I draw lightly, and our scanner can't seem to get all the light areas, which, essentially, is everything. Why is it purple? Because I wanted to. The original looks quite different. Oh well, I'm sure you'll survive. :]

The Sense of Wonder, Part 1: The Ground Below

Laying on a world of clouds, the small figure of a young girl stared up at the endless blue of the sky.

Such a familiar sight.
A seemingly endlessly floor of clouds stretched out and reached from sun to moon. Her home shone with the elegance and grace of a world basking in sunlight by day and reflecting the glow of the moon by night.

Such a familiar sight.
As was her custom, she walked from horizon to horizon, playing a small ocarina. The music that this instrument played would direct and shape the cloud's forms beneath her, bending them to her delicate whims. As was their custom, so the clouds would dance for the young girl, delighted by the soothing call of her music.

Such a familiar sight.
On this day, however, she composed a new song. As she walked and played her song, the ocarina singing with its familiar voice, the clouds rolled beneath her with her music, obeying the subtle prompts of the notes. On and on she played, and ever faithful the clouds danced for her until the moon rose. The clouds lit up with the glow of the moonlight, softly shifting to the ocarina's music all through the night. As her song neared its close, the sun began to rise. With the advent of the sun's light, the clouds broke open in front of her in response to this new song. Upon the opening of the clouds, she caught a glimpse of something wonderful. 

Beneath her home that she was so accustomed to, the rays of the sun reached down further than her imagination had yet ventured, far below to a realm that she had never set eyes on. Filled with wonder, she gazed down and saw for the first time a world of living creatures, each with their own unique traits, unique styles. As her home drifted silently across the sky, she saw creatures that lived in the water, in the air, and on the ground. She saw plants of all sizes, lakes, streams, mountains, and valleys.

Such a distant dream.

Day after day she would float high above and watch with wonder filling her mind and heart. Such a foreign element...
Such a distant dream.

The sun was just beginning to drop below the mountains far off, laying a soft golden shine to the sky and earth. The rays of the sun flickered and shifted as it drifted its way to sleep as it did every night, slowly...slowly.
Finally, she closed her eyes with thoughts of the realm below. Clouds veiled her, softly keeping out the cold as they rolled around her small frame. Now as sleep steadily crept up and took its hold on her, dreams filled her mind with imaginations of setting foot on the ground.
...
Such a distant dream.

~T

Another page of that book I've started my writing project in. It really is odd when I come to read what I've written in this book. Most people would say that it doesn't sound like me at all, but I honestly feel like it is a glimpse of aspects about my personality that not many people get to see.

Dependence:

A new life forms in the loving womb of a caring mother. Breathlessly, it thrives and grows, perfectly cared for and nurtured by the temporary home.
Then the moment comes, however. The life is born, and the newborn takes its first breath...filling the new lungs with air that previously was a foreign element. Air, in turn, becomes vital for life...the same life that existed for nearly a year without this air. Why is that so?

Take this air now, however, and empty the lungs. What are the effects? Life would begin to fade, and soon this young one would be no more alive than before it ever existed. Those newborn lungs are forever dependent on the air they've had but a taste of, no matter the thriving for all that time before them.

Thus introduces my point of this page, for such is the state we find ourselves in when we start to love someone. I used to think that statements similar to "I can't live with out them" were simple emotional overflow of the heart. "You were fine without them for years," I reasoned, "you can be fine without them now."
I have since been persuaded to reconsider.
Similar to the infant thriving without air for 9 months, humans are capable of living lives that are fulfilling and meaningful while alone. They have friends, they have laughs, and they are capable of handling trials alone quite well. Just like the time comes for the first breath, though, a certain time comes and that will affect us like few things in our life can.
Suddenly, we are forever changed, just like the infant who takes their first breath. Now that we become 'exposed' to the person of our affections in all their varying degrees, we are...altered. The removal of said persons equates to similarities of air being drawn from the lungs that have recently taken their first breath.
Now our hearts, though perfectly capable of thriving at one time, now exposed, become dependent on this foreign element.
...
Interesting, these manipulative things called emotion, setting us apart as truly unique from the different lifeforms around us. Hard to explain and understand, emotion adds depth to who and what we are.
Food for thought.

The Wronged Right Choice & Believe in Me, Revised

I've started a writing project, one that I would be honored to show to you all. I have a notebook where I have recently begun writing a few of my own philosophies and ideas in, things that present themselves to my mind, wander around a bit, and get lost. Hopefully writing them down will act as a memory aid while giving them more substance and meaning. Are they groundbreaking revelations to rock what we know and how we know it? No, but they do give a little peek into the deeper aspects of my thoughts. The following post is an excerpt from one of the pages. After that, I have included "Believe in Me", an earlier post that has been edited. It now expresses what I wanted it to express a bit clearer, even though there were only a few adjustments. Hope you enjoy either one. If you're of the mind, then let me know what you think.

The Wronged Right Choice:

Have you ever felt that something was the right choice, but wished that it wasn't?
Some of those choices are simply not the ones we want to make. We try and we strive to find another way, another choice, but in the end...

Sad, really, that our fragile minds should lead us so astray. There are always so many paths we can choose, but inexplicably we have this inner ideology of what is right. How heavenly it would be to rebel against that haunt; drop responsibility, consequence, and fear of reactions to our choice. Sometimes even the wish of no consequence for one choice in life is a fleeting dream we cannot seem to pin.

Unequivocally frustrating at times, our minds and hearts seem to fight each other, as if some battle of all that is holy vs. all that is wicked is being waged in our bodies. How can we calm something so tumultuous as emotion? How can we tether down something as evanescent and fleeting as the heart's motivational processing?

We continue down our loathed path, certain of success and assured of our wisdom in making said choice, but in all of our understanding of divine guidance and flawless reasoning, emotion tears at the strands of our soul, causing bitter hatred for the knowledge of the rightness of the choice made. With each wrench of our heart, and grimace of pain in our beings, we fail and wrong our right choice. Nevertheless, we faithfully continue down our righteous course, never swerving neither left nor right, ever determined to stay the path.

If only the heart would agree with the mind. How truly treacherous the heart can be.

~T

Believe in Me-Revised 

As the rain poured down, he sat, feeling more and more alone. The valley he was in served as a memorial to things now long past, far from the reach of any mortal man. Only a few short moments had past since he first arrived before he could bear no longer, and he broke. Trembling violently on his knees, he held his face in his hands as he sobbed heavily.
Like a velvet blanket of comfort and hope for things past, he heard a familiar voice softly speak.
"What are you doing in a place like this? Weren't you supposed to touch the sky?" 

The rain nearly drowned the voice out. They were both soaked through, but neither seemed to notice.
"I can't...I can't do this!"  He cried,  "Its no use..."
The ground was soggy beneath the two, and his knees sunk into the earth.
"No use?" The man asked.
"They've got it all wrong," he screamed, looking up at him, "I'm not able to do what you can! I'm not you! You have to do it...I just want to go back, to go home!"

"Snap out of it!" Yelled the man, punching him square in the face with force. He fell back on the ground, water and mud splashing in his face.
Motionless, he stared up at the man..."Brother? What was that for?" The noise of the rain seemed to dissipate when his smiling brother replied in a quiet and confident voice: "Listen. When you've lost your way, and you have lost hope, don't believe in yourself. Believe in me, who believes in you."

He hesitated, and then asked: "What do you mean?"

His brother picked him up and stood him on his feet, wiping mud off his face. Pointing at his little brother's heart, he told him: "Whether it's called laughable or unreasonable, this is the path you chose. If there is a wall in the way, you will break it down. If there is no path ahead, you will carve one with your own hands. Like a fire in your heart, and power in your hands, everlasting and unbreakable. Forget the impossible, and throw away reason. That is who you will be. So when you're weak, when you're broken, when you've lost the will to believe in yourself, then believe in me, who believes in you."
His brother's eyes shined with confidence and power, stirring something deep inside him, giving him a hope he thought had long past.

There was silence now. His crying stopped, and his body was no longer trembling. The rain began to die down, as blades of sunlight slowly pierced the gloom and dreary clouds. The smile he saw so often in his brother's face slowly slid across his own. "Alright, brother. I understand."
His brother replied with his usual confidence, grabbed his shoulder, and said: "Touch the sky, little brother."
As he said those words, he was gone. Standing alone again, he looked around him at the field and foothills that surrounded him as the sun shed more and more of its golden silk across the landscape. Far in the distance, the mountains loomed like monsters, behemoths of ancient times. The man that left was seen reflected in the man that now stood alone, as he faced the trials that lay ahead. Started on his path again, the memorial to his brother was left behind now.  "Thank you." He said aloud.

"I'll follow this path, even if it proves to be my grave. I'll touch the sky."


~T

Wounds

     "The most painful wounds are the ones that don't hurt anymore. The ones that have gone so deep, that I almost don't even notice them."
                                         "My wounds? The ones that are covered up by the less painful ones as I'm                                                       trying to hide from everyone else what is deepest."

            "The most painful wounds come from the ones I never expected it from.                                                          The most painful wounds are the ones that I never saw. 
                                           The ones that came from the ones that I trusted the most."

 "My wounds penetrate clothing, flesh, bones, resolve, determination, dedication, and hope. They reach the most treacherous part of my body, my heart. They tear into my heart and rip the strands of it to pieces."

                "Those wounds bring out the darkest monsters inside of me, and nurture the demons that I hide. What hope is there to kill the infection that rots inside?"

Guest Writer-Jeniffer Lucas

Healing

What is this dream I can't wake up from?
I feel everything and I feel nothing
A nightmare that ends only when I sleep
At night I rest, at day I'm running

Who will save me from this dark prison?
My cell has no bars, my key has no lock
My sentence is final for a crime not committed
My heart breathes despair, they tell me its shock

This silent screaming in my mind
is gently soothed by the voices around me
A hundredfold is what is promised
I ache for the one, I treasure the many

Will I ever feel peace?  Will I ever be happy?
I bow my head and calm descends
This wounded heart begins to heal
My broken spirit begins to mend

I can

I can stand on my own.
I can see my reflection.
I can clean on my own.
I can cut the grass, and I can save a beetle.
I can suggest the proper way.
I can help someone move their things.
I can use chopsticks, and I can hold the door.
I can lie to myself.
I can find my truth.

I can rise above who I am...I can change what I am.

I can hold off hate, and stifle my heart.
I can know the lies, and move past.
I can refuse to die, and silence any voice.
I can survive any blow.
I can rise from any fall.
I can persuade my heart, and refuse to fail.
I can suffer hate and pain and sorrow,
I can find strength even in weaknesses.
I can know my angels and demons,
I can force myself to stay the course.

I can reduce my walls to rubble,
I can turn my obstacles to nothing.
I can rise above my darkest shadows.
I can move beyond the nothingness of despair.
I can create my own reality,
I can shape my own tomorrow.
I can defeat the shadow inside of me,
I can touch the sky.
I can stand on my own.

Fight the Fight

Guest Poem By: 

Nautica

Fight the fine fight

The fight of the faith

Though in the midst of it

It seems like a very long wait

The enemy plays tricks on the mind

He'll try to make the truth hard to define

He portrays himself as an angel of light

Once he's crept in

He'll strive to take away your sight

He wants nothing more

Than to get you alone in the night

So you can't find your way home

So that you fall into his traps

To take away your life

So if your batteries are draining

and you're having trouble

Of your faith maintaining

Then seek help from above

Look around, seek out the God of love

and look for that light

Emanating from your true comrades

That are in the heart of the fight

Beside you, supporting you

In doing what's right

To help you keep your sight

and stay in the fight

The fight for the real life

Skyward

Beyond what is seen, and farther still.
Not tethered, nor held, nor bound, nor owned 
Neither height nor depth nor valley nor hill,
On a Skyward path, one sets out alone.

A Shadow Inside Me, A Darkness Within

A world of reflection, empty and void.
My evanescent existence, my truth I avoid.

My path now hidden, a hate stands behind.
The darkest part of me forces me to find

The Shadow inside me, the Darkness within
Reminds me of failures and all of my sins.

To copy and mimic, this art it perfects,
To twist and deform are its effects.

Pain and torture of mind and heart
It only seeks to tear me apart.

Twisted and wicked as deep as is seen,
This Shadow is foul, horrid, obscene.

It knows my heart, and knows my thoughts,
It knows the past battles that have been fought.

It knows my strong, my frail, and weak.
It hides the hope and life that I seek.

A Shadow of me, a Darkness within,
My newest foe, that has always been.

Seeded deep and far inside,
A horrid truth we seek to hide.

As it rises, as do I,
Ready to fight, willing to die.

Till the end of this bitter fight,
I'll stand strong with whatever might

I may find inside, deeper than
This Shadow inside me, this Darkness within.

Faces

Featuring Guest Writer Camille West in
Faces

The night is seeping away
as I rush through the day,
catching all the faces in a glimpse.
As each face flips,
I try to find out why,
but the answer just slips by,
and I will never know
whether it's a frown to see
or a smile to go with the flow.
As the looks tend to flee
Their simple hello can go a mile,
but their face, no one knows
all the faces are in their own race
a race that blows,
orbiting the answer
that I don't know.

Guest Writter Carissa Kasper, in: "Who I am"

 Its not always easy being me...

    If they only knew how hard it is to overcome...

       Overcome what.?.

  The fears that hold me back...

    The fear of being laughed at or being judged

        But most of all being hurt...

  If they only knew that we walk the same path but got on different shoes.....

         This might help them accept me for

               Who i am and not what i do or don't do.....