beyond the silver glassy sea

no hope.
no love.
no life.

aside from my belief--my faith.
that is what i have. that is all i will ever have in the end, yet the world around me attacks me for it, claiming me to be ignorant, foolish, intolerant. i apparently offend them. according to what i believe, though, it doesn't matter. i'll offend many people in my lifetime, sure. the thing is... i'm not on this earth to please them, no matter how much pressure society places on me.

but one day we'll find out who's right. as of now, they're right in their own minds and i'm wrong. our beliefs, you see, clash; they just can't work together. one day when we pass through this life into the void, it'll be beautiful for one and pure agony for the other.

the past and I

It was like nothing I would have ever expected, yet at the same time, it was exactly how I dreamed it to be. We walked into that huge room together expecting nothing and everything at once. It was silent and empty, but we were happy, quietly content with what we had in one another. We walked on a long silver balcony, staring deep into (or out of?) the glass walls that separated us from the expanse of vast nothingness and darkness that lay just beyond us.

There was nowhere really that we could go, yet the paths to a million places lay at our feet. Life spun in each and every direction. Life itself was in our fingertips at that very moment. It was just me and you and you and me, and I knew that this was where I belonged.

We stood there for hours, staring off into the silent blackness, not at all silent ourselves as our conversation drifted from God to life to love to laughter. I don't know how long we spent there, but to me, it didn't matter-- and when you took my hands and looked into my eyes, nothing else mattered at that moment. 


"I love you," you said. 
I know, I thought. I would never ever let you go-- I love you too much for that to happen. 


Yet now, years later, I hold onto nothing but those memories. As I sit with the sun falling out of the sky before my eyes, I realize one thing; nothing here ever lasts. She's gone. Too far gone. 

lest you fall

Have you ever noticed that it's the smaller things that prove to be the most impactful? It's the short, yet heartfelt encouragements that give the most benefit. It's amazing to see the results of encouragement; it can lift the heartbroken back to their feet, give new life to those who have given up, give wings to the fallen. Even the smallest words aimed to uplift can produce overwhelming results.
We're called to encourage those who feel like they're falling. We're called to build up those all around us. (1 Thess 5:11, 5:14, 1 Tim 6:1-2)

Hm, it looks like I need to mean more with my words. I say too many things that are 1. unnecessary, and 2. inappropriate for that moment. Likewise, I say too few encouraging things to those who deserve them. I need to change.
I pray that I may be a Godly example and encouragement in my actions, speech, and interactions.

never coming back

a smile in the dark,

two hands clasped forevermore,

now a folded flag

it's all gone, she says,

what we never had--and more.

and now it's all gone. 

not alone

Cassie looked up at the bleak skies, warily eying the darkening clouds gathered in the distance. She shivered and pulled her coat closer against the incoming wind, then plunged into the crowds of people around her. Like waves they beat upon each other, not caring what or who was in the way. In the midst of this hustle and bustle of downtown city-life, Cassie felt tiny. Her job as a marketing advisor at a small-scale business didn't really help either. She was nothing, she felt, in the grand scheme of things. She had nothing to contribute to society, she told herself time after time.
It was cold-- the way she thought, the air she breathed in as she walked briskly upon the sidewalk. No, everyone was cold. Eye-contact was inexistent on the streets; eyes never locked upon one another. It was like everyone was afraid... of everyone. Afraid of meeting someone different, unusual, out of the ordinary.

Yet, Cassie thought, in this way, hardly anyone here is different. 

so close

Ever since I was young, I wanted to be so much more than I could ever be. I wanted to fly and be super strong and fast; I wanted to be the man to suddenly swoop in and save the day. As I grew older, I wanted to be the shining kid in the spotlight. I wanted to be cool; I wanted to be hot. And then puberty hit me. I wanted the attention of girls in a very awkward manner (which, of course, meant a complete shunning of all those of the female gender ...I'm still not sure how that works [and I'm still not sure I've gotten over it]). I wanted to be good at things, athletics, leadership, strategy, and so on and so forth-- basically any and every-thing attractive to a 13-14 year old. 

But here I am now, barely older. So? Did I achieve any of these things? 

Heh, hardly any, and if any, maybe only just a little bit. I've gotten a whole lot closer to those goals, but heck - I'm only 16. I've got what, 50 or so (if that, or more, God willing) more years to live. I've got so many more dreams to dream, more things to wish for. 

And God sure knows, I won't stop dreaming.

Yeah. I still want to be Spiderman.

Nelson Mandela:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”