Letters They’ll Never Read

(February 1, 2023)

Just fine sitting in the in-between 

At peace with the state of unknowing

Writing letters they will never see

This knowledge brings you practical ease

Frank words you know they’ll never read

Freedom to write in full honesty

And these the ones you let your heart cling

With no chance of failure or dying thing

No other involved, affecting dreams

You alone, power to tip feelings

Snap of the finger, heart is retrieved

Dropping all trace of affectionate glee

Or, if wishes desire to be,

Love held for stubborn eternity

Unrequited love, alright with thee

They, no knowledge, like took no seed

And so, just a past of imagining

You move back on to reality

Snap of the finger, awoke from the sleep

But still you slip in and out of the dream

A Good Person

(February 27, 2022)

Remember that a good person was never made without another having pity on them in their state of evil and rebellion. And they most often first appeared very hostile and unapproachable. To create better people, one must always push into the darkness first to pull another out into the light. Separation will do nothing of the sort. 

In efforts of security and preservation, those who think they’re good isolate themselves because they cannot get the mess of the world on their hands. They forget that this most often accomplishes the opposite of their desire. They are not making the world a better place but only their world— a world that will grow smaller and smaller as they isolate to wash the dirt and disorder of others off their clothing. And then, the greater outer world will nevertheless grow and encroach upon their “place of safety” by taking it over and consuming it, and then it will be too late for any hopes of changing an evil and rebellious world to be good.

We Are Insects

(September 4, 2019)

We are insects, small creatures that live and move and walk on this blue and green dust ball.

We pick our battles, collect our food, bring our portions forward. We shake our fists towards the heavens, start fights we can’t finish, “for ourselves, for humanity... for ourselves.”

We have little legs, little mouths, little heads, bodies, little emotions, little thoughts—at least when you’re at a bird's eye view, or how about a satellite view. One wonders how big we must look from the sun’s view, or another galaxy.

We are insects, tiny creatures that live and move and walk on this blue and green dust ball.

He sees.

There is one who watches these creatures in their everyday living. Yet they pretend to be quite busy and unaware of Him. Their paper piling, food collecting, world-changing, as well as fighting and yelling, are a little too great at the present moment to notice Him.

He sees.

But He is kind.

He is kind to not retrieve His very breath back to Himself, sucking it from our frail lungs.

He is patient to not untwine or crush our feeble legs that run so rapidly away from Him.

He is gracious to hear our pathetic mouths curse Him hourly, yet restrain from filling them with clay and closing them shut.

How His ears must burn, and His eyes become filled with fire as He stares at the small beings who ignore Him daily and claim to be the masters of their own lives.

“I created myself”... “I can find my path in the dark with my all-seeing eyes, unmuddled feelings, and infinite knowledge.”

For truly, who would need such a God if this were true? What freedom, what blissful self-actualization and independent triumph.

But if such a claim were wrong, or even the slightest bit off, what a tragic disaster might these little creatures find themselves running towards. They beg Him for their ruin. They beg Him to be damned. Anything, oh anything, but to trust and submit themselves to such a cruel creator who gave them the very legs they use to run from Him with. Anything, oh anything, but to thank the One who gifted them the mouths they use to curse Him with. Anything, oh anything, but to acknowledge the one who granted them the very eyes they refuse to look at Him with.

Anything, oh anything, but to love the One who originated such a beautiful thing as love and demonstrated it so nobly by coming in such little form and dying for a creation that would not—no matter the gift or the warning—recognize Him to be their God.

An Analysis on Communication

(June 2019)

We speak in codes and metaphors, Both to hide things and reveal them. To speak so frankly could be either too brash or too cheap. For most treasured things are quite tender and “worthy of some sort of protection.” To hide a meaning in hopes of one discovering.  To speak about things deeply in order for one to dig deep to understand. There is value brought in an answer that must be unearthed. For a jewel hidden in the dark is given more weight and more value when searched for all night and finally found.

The rarity of a feeling, when two feel them so rarely.  To dig and find, to uncover that feeling conceded by another, makes one cherish.   There is no tarnish. Once brushed off, it is but one of the purest and most sacred of all.  For the decoder took just as much effort to seek the matter out as the one who had sought out those rarities found within their own heart first... and then, in efforts to be known by the most daring, resolved to speak about them with such cipher, hiding it while also revealing the slightest corner, as if to send out an invitation to the most meek, yet bold, to venture forward in expedition to understand their words of code and metaphor.

The Privilege of Getting to Know Someone

(March 21, 2019)

May we not forget the privilege of getting to know someone. They do not get that same privilege, being trapped inside their own mind. They don’t know how unique they are. The influence they have. The ways they impress and amuse others. They are unaware of how many people look up to them and why. They are used to themselves and don’t recognize their brilliance and originality.

But we get to experience that, something they never will. I wish my favorite of people could experience that privilege of getting to know themselves.