Category Archives: Thoughts

To Be Celebrated

Some things are meant

To be celebrated

With a flurry of handshakes

Or kind words of “well done”

Some things are meant

To be celebrated

With group hugs

Or pats on the back

Some things are meant

To be celebrated

With hurried phone calls

Or squeals of joy

Others things are meant

To be celebrated

With thankful prayers

And silent, smiling hearts

celebrate

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In That Moment

It was one of those moments

where it seemed to stretch on forever

because it does.

I will carry

that peace

that excitement

that serenity

that safety

that bliss

that openness

that fun

that freedom

that love

forever

because I have chosen

for that

for this

moment

to never end.

Life may take me

hundreds of miles aways

and scores of years past

but that moment

this moment

will live on

as long as I do.

In that moment,

I felt an overwhelming

gratefulness for my life

and for the people who

make it worthwhile,

oh so much more than worthwhile

It is truly a blessing

to feel the love of life,

and I did

and I still do

stars

user:Unsplash

Trapped

You used to come so easy to me,

and now I can hardly get a phrase out.

I string together a few letters

and a gust of wind blows them away

higher than any kite in the sky,

but I can still see it.

I yearn for the writing high,

that ache filled.

I crave the feeling of accomplishment

when finishing a piece

and having nothing left to exhale.

It seems like I can’t even

breathe out anymore

with how much my words are trapped.

And it hurts

me

it hurts

to not be able to write

something so simple

and hugely complex.

I miss it.

I’m trapped:

Ask me to write a scholarship essay,

I’ll have it to you in 20 minutes.

Quiz me on Gutenberg printing press influence on the Protestant Reformation in a short answer essay,

I will provide exquisite details bringing a tear to any teacher’s eye.

For my own pleasure,

write a poem or chapter in my novel.

. . . nothing . . .

If I didn’t know better,

I’d think I have forgotten how.

And the little inspiration

I have had

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Select Few

How is it that something so magnificently gorgeous

has become mundane?

How is it that beauty

no longer stops the world

just to stand in awe of it?

How is it that splendor

became normal?

How is it that a fly

is something you swat at

and not wonder at?

How is it that the letter  “T”

is in almost every sentence

and we do not hold it in reverence

whenever we cross those lines?

How is it that sharpening a pencil

does not astound us

in its incredible feat?

How is it that God created all the world

but we only revel in the glory of a select few?

California_High_Desert_Sunrise

Wikimedia/Jessie Eastland

The Moon, My Friend

The moon, though, is a different matter entirely

Forever bolstering a light not his own

His limited and frugal glow

Barely enough to see by

Compared to his older sister

Who laughs unbashedly

And flings wide her embrace

At every chance meeting

Moon lits up not the sky

But just a path

Not enough to see the world by

And sometimes not even him

He promises to be by my side

Then leaves after a couple of days

He smiles wide

But it is pock marked and grey

No where near as joyous as his sister’s

He is always hiding something,

Never telling the full story

I would call moon a fickle friend

Not necessarily entertaining when he’s here

But at least he’s strong enough

To bare and show his scars

And maybe he shines just enough

To illuminate the important things

As for his inconsistent presence

Ever thought to wonder if

He wants to leave?

Supermoon, September 28, 2015 (UTC), Osaka, Japan.

Supermoon, September 28, 2015 (UTC), Osaka, Japan.