Hope of Hope

One day there will be healing.

Blessed and beautiful days of grace.

As night rises,

so shall it fall

and hope shall burn.

I have naught but this need,

improbable and impossible hope

that there is more.

Night is empty

and so very cold.

But there is hope

of life and warmth.

Broken Sense of Freedom

I realize I have been wrong to expect anything from someone so emotionally immature and incapable of adult like communication. The easy thing would be to say there is no point...oh but that is such a lie.

There is a point.

So vivid and clear.

Painted with pain.

It's a masterpiece that will not be finished until I take my last breath.

Just know I am done wasting effort and energy and breath.

If I was going to spend energy it would just be negative and pointless wastes of be and being.

So I can breath and smile at death.

Time to Hope

If I have nothing more than anything it must be hope.

It is what will keep me alive if anything will.

This nightmare seems to have no end and the bleakness seems more real than anything else.

I need to hope but I am so unsure and not sure of why I live and try.

Death is so much easier but I do feel a need to live and see how things resolve. 

Soul Full of Strange

Wow.
Life is just...so, so strange.
So excessively weird.
Extraordinary strange.
Over the moon.
Barking mad.
Mental.
Insane.

This growing by numbers at a day is so slow and yet so fast at the same time.
If one does not pay close attention everything slips through like sand through fingers.
Is this life?
Is this moment life?
This passing and fleeting second?
Life?
Sincerely and seriously?

 Moving so slow.
In location change, in health, in school, in work and life.
Breathing pains.
What am I willing to give up so I can be free?
What am I willing to embrace so I can be free?
What pains?
What joys?
What burdens must I burn?
What plastic hopes need I trash?

Yeah.
Another day.
More work.
More being tired.
Yeah.

Life continues...

Open Window, Fresh Breeze

The sun hovered just beyond the horizon this morning, hiding behind endless layers of clouds. The light has not been too bright and the early morning hours never really got beyond hues of blueish gray.

You can smell the city on the breeze.

A bizarre mixture of fast food, oil, smog and pollen.

The sound is just as mixed with the calls of birds, reeving of motors and the occasional cries of a person or cat.

I wish it was possible to make sense of what is going on inside of me...as I can with what is going on outside the window.

There are proper nouns, objects, places, people and things...and inside of me there is this raging sea full of so many insufficient metaphors which seem to make less sense as the days go by.

Is this normal?

Surely I'm not the only one to question the reality of the world.
How we can be created to feel so much good and bad...and how a good God does Love.
It's far more painful to be Loved than ignored, hated or rejected.
Love drives in between the scales of armor and pierces the heart like nothing else can hope to ever do.

If you ever want to destroy someone totally, do not use hate.
Use love.
It rips apart the fabric of their very being and in its place...something new grows.

And this raging sea persists.
Tides rise and fall.
Cycles begin, end and than continue.
Day in and day out.
Hours and seconds tick away.
Those ticks become a black mark on the calendar by my door.

This madness we call life.
We live, we live and we live.
Every second with static and noise that only sometimes makes sense and in those miraculous moments somehow life happens in all of its imperfectly beautiful ways. 

So for all the crazy depressing stuff...life isn't so bad once you get past the silly melancholy.
As it's been said "This too shall pass" and I think that applies to both good and bad things.
I can and choose to smile in defiance of  a broken world.
There is good and I haven't given up.

Happiness is a state of...being?

I wonder if the lack of posting I've done on this blog means anything particularly outside of the fact I've been suffering severe drying up of writing...for one reason or another.

In some ways I do not think I could be happier...but in others I wonder what is going on. Why I am doing what I am doing and what I am doing it for...

I keep having to deal with emotional/mental stress on top and beside the physical ones...wondering what will happen. What will happen?

What is really worth fighting for in this mixed up world?
I am trying.
Thoughts keep spiraling one way or another.

Certain things in my life can keep going this way...but a lot of changes need to be changed.

There is hope...even when I'm not entirely sure what of and why and how.

I suppose the wonderful thing about life is that no matter how bad somethings may seem...may get...how bad they hurt...

The dawn still comes.
The world will rotate.
Another chance.
Another time.

One day for each of us it will end.
But so far it seems as though my role isn't finished being played.

Curiouser and curiouser.