How to live:


Saturday, March 3, 2012

Essay: Truth

Beyond the surface of our understanding, a spirited force lays in a temporary repose. So deeply hidden underneath the many layers of the earth of our minds it is, waiting patiently to be exposed. For its humble face is an outcast to the world outside the doors of its home. Yet, every so often it releases a zealous pulse from its heart to a receptive spirit as a reminder of its existence. The mind’s eye of the spirit is then forced to behold the view of the world past that of fantasy after a single touch from its chilling finger. And the invisible barrier of illusion that once clouded the eye shatters at last. Such spirited force is Truth. Traces of its existence is but faint, even lifeless at times in this figure that is so called society. The eye’s of the figure only view but an illusion, not Truth. For that is what it has created. A misleading illusion that had been plastered over the face of Truth, in effort to smother the living breathe directly from its mouth. For only then can it be content with its own life. Only when it is consumed with the stories of a thousand lies does it shout in joy and say it is satisfied with life. The lies transform into a false truth. Nothing more. Then slowly, the figure’s vision becomes impaired. So does its heart… Fortunate for me to have escaped the grasp of this misleading illusion. Now begins my task to seek out Truth from inside the bottomless well of my mind. For I wish to reside in its home of righteousness rather than the land of my desires.

My Poem: Answers

A multitude of questions fill the surrounding space
Competeing in a race
For my attention
And no need to mention
All of the confusion
They only create an image of an illusion
That taunt me with its lies
And its unending cries
For answers.
No more I say.
For they made day and night bleed together
And my mind drifted away like a lost feather
Sailing away on the seas of time
Only there did the clouds appear sublime
Yet even there the questions did not leave
Always I have to carry them on my sleeve
Listening to their cry
For answers.
Sigh...why even try?
To search longer for what cannot be found
No I am bound
By chains of desperation
Hoping in anticipation
For answers.

Friday, August 12, 2011

My Poem: Sweet Melody

Black and yellow
Its translucent wings
Humming a familiar tune
Whilst dancing with grace
To and fro as it pleases
Stopping momentarily
To whisper of a promise
A single hope
From above.
Its beauty speaks
Fragile the voice
Uttering a declaration from its Master.
Careful not to miss it.
Black and yellow
Travels on
Dancing into the unknown.
Being carried by the waves of a gale
The faint echo of its melody

Saturday, July 2, 2011

My Poem: A Town In Recovery

A small town enclosed by the walls of mountains,
Is hidden deep within a lonesome valley.
Shadows fall over its frame.
It is obscured by the blanket of a devistating downfall,
And continues to cling to the days of old...
Its history lingers within its shell,
Speaking of an vibrant story that is no longer told out loud.
And the memories of the previous liveliness are fresh in its roots,
Driving it toward restoration.
After seasons pass, new engery transpires,
Cultivating the old into new,
And aquirring the seed of freedom.
A sprout finally regrows from the weakened skeleton,
Spreading like a blazing fire.
No longer without oxygen to respire,
The town blooms once more.
Slowly. Unraveling.
It starts.
The damage from the past begins to be repaired by the hands of a new source,
Who is willing to return to the former day,
When the evidence of disater was not apparent,
And the pulse was never faint.
Now soft songs sound from the once solitary streets,
Ringing toward the hills,
Spreading the aroma of life.
The small town is amidst recovery.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

The Ant In Us

A black ant scrambles across the pavement, on his back is a piece of a thick, ash leaf. On and on, he travels with his load to an unknown destination. A few moments later, he disappears under a layer of rocks, out of sight...
The ant being a perfect image of oursleves, carries more than his own wieght. The load is a symbol of truth; a symbol of the secrets hidden inside ourselves which we carry on our shoulders throughout life. For what reasons? Such question cannot be answered. For the jusifications are obscured deep in our hearts only for us personaly to know. It is locked away in the chest we built out of protection. While embarressed, guilty, doubtful,...we move foward just as the ant, never disposing the leaf from our backs because we never find the destination that we feel provides safety for such information. We fear the power of others having knowlege of such information, so we hold on to it even though it cuases pain. Thus, each of us become a feeble ant that is overpowered by the magnitude of its load.
However, unlike the ant, we are not built to hold the extra weight and therefore, our frames are weakened over time. The strain adds to the discomfort and we feel helpless. Our ability to withstand such feelings diminishes and we are left vulnerable.
Yet, while we all reach such point more than once where the feeling of impowerment takes control, we can also escape its wrath. It may take longer than anticipated, but we do have the strenghth to win such battle. Every individual has the capability of releasing the burden that is being carried. It does not matter whether it may be large or minute. Thus, do not lose faith. Somewhere along the path leading to our destination is a place of where it is safe for us to dispose of our burdens. When the right moment comes, such a place will be revealed. And when such a time occurs, the true black ant in all of us will finally appear.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

A Walk On The Beach

During one of my many walks on the beach I came across a few things that I found interesting. The ocean had a few insights it happened to share with me so I thought I would share one of the them....
When walking down the beach of course there were seashells. You cannot have a beach without seashells! Well, I saw an intersting pebble and picked it up off the sandy floor, observing the arrangement of colors on its surface. When I finished, I threw it back into the ocean and searched for a shell instead. Doing so, I noticed that there were more of the pebbles and pieces of broken shells rather than the regular full shells. I looked closer at another pebble, and that was when I realized that the pebble was not a pebble at all, but instead a shell... the ocean water had caused it to look differently. The water ran over the shell so many times that it wore down its surface and caused it to go from a large shell and into a small pebble.
Then I went to thinking further...people are very similar to the pebbles. The waves of life repeatedly wash our surface and eventually polish us over time just as the large shells become pebbles from the waves of the ocean. We all start like a shell; whole and sturdy. However, with each new wave, it changes the way we look. More so inside than out. They shape us into a different person...We are made new....sometimes into someone we cannot recognize just as I did not recognize that the pebble was actually a shell at first.
The force of the water may also cause the shell to break along the way. A few pieces of the shell may be left on the shore while the others are washed back into the depths of the ocean. Some of the pieces of ourselves are left behind in our pasts for certian reasons while the rest lay in the present. It is impossible to put them back together. The broken piece is then carried on and drifts to a new destination, caught by the waves. The shell still continues its journey even thought it is broken just as we are forced to do.
And so, you can see that the water seems to be a huge factor. It was the water that caused the change in the shells and took them where it wanted. Well, there is a figure that resembles the water. Yes, God. God is the water and we are the seashells. He shapes us and polishes us throughtout our life. While we may break during the proccess, it does not matter. Even the small, broken pieces of shells with holes in its surface are still picked up on the shore and admired. Afterall I picked one up. They are not forgotten and lost in the depths of the ocean. They are still cared for them just as God cares for us. The creatures in the shell are dependent on the water just as our souls are dependent on God. And in the end, we become like the pebble I happened to pick up, smooth and better yet, beautiful!

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

My Poem: Run

Run Run So Fast
Escape the past
At last, At last
No need to return
And feel the burn
Why not learn
How to dream
In an endless stream
Forget the scream
Of fright
Leave the night
And enter the light
Run Run So Fast
Escape the past
At last, At last
No need to fear
Release the last tear
And hear
The sound of rest
Free from the the tempest
Join this quest
And rise
Forget the lies
Walk into the sunrise
Of a new day
Do not delay
Or go astray
Run Run So Fast
Escape the past
At last, At last

Friday, May 27, 2011

My Poem: Show Me Your Glory

My footsteps beat against grains of sand
Running in time to complete a task at hand
Scorched from the stifling heat of the strangling day
Still they manage to press foward without delay
My eyes search the horizon for the distant place
Where consolation flows throughout the entire space
And solitude is no longer the only affiliation
Ah, How I seek in anticipation...
Reaching the ridged rocks where the waves collide
Where sparkling blue depths and the heavan divide
My ears hear a sinlge voice call out:
"No need child for you to reman in doubt,
For I have come to show you the way,
Under the shelter of my wing you shall stay!"

The voice withdraws from me all of my confusion
No longer do I reside in a misleading illusion
Of a treacherous shore
Trapping me once more
No, Now to know that You will always be so near
No more do I have to live in fear
Of tribulaton
For You have granted me restoration

Thus, one day these waves will cease to cause turmoil
Their twisting grasp around me will finally uncoil
Allowing my feet to fully stand still
On Your glorious hill
Of grace and protection
I do not need to search for my own direction