I tread water, yet I have no control, I am washed in these waves that battle for my soul.
My situation is tenuous, perhaps even dire, I gasp for air, but I am growing tired.
Been in these waters for far too long, got used to going under, thinking maybe it made me strong.
But I have been weak, I became what I am not, lost myself in the waters forgetting why I ever fought.
So it is not enough now to simply come up for air, I can tread no longer for the waves have weight I must not bear.
I take a deep breath, I steel my nerves, I set my sights towards land and choose whom I will serve.
I reach solid ground, yet the waters still lap at my skin, I know it’s not enough, so I move further in.
In and away, away from the waves, and now looking back, they seem so much more like a grave.
I lived in death pretending it could sustain; now I grasp at life as I shed my pain.
Tears flow down as reality hits, I see solid rock, and this is where I sit.
I can still see the waves, so I look to the sky; it begins to rain, and once again, I am no longer dry.
Yet this rain is different than the waves that would be my tomb, I feel peace and warmth, I am completely consumed.
This time though, instead of grasping for survival; I sit on this rock ready for revival.
I am revived fully, washed in this rain, the waves no longer in sight, the fog clears my brain.
On a solid foundation, I see clearly; I have all that I need, and it is on this rock I am finally freed.
Freedom, a final thought for this piece, I am free, and yet I still release.
I release my desperate desire for control, I give it up freely, I give God my soul.
Yes, all along God was the rock, the waves my flesh, and so I take stock.
I take inventory now of the things I have learned, I let go of idols and allow a clean heart to yearn.
I yearn now for the One it always should have been, the Lord my God has freed me from my sin.
Christ
Never to be Known
She will never know… never know how I’ve grown.
She will never see the effect she had on me.
She won’t read the lines I was lead to write. She won’t know they kept me up at night.
She won’t feel that passion I poured into these pages, but I still pray for her happiness to grow through the ages.
Another stepping stone of growth and learning, but this time, I’m not even left with the yearning.
This made sense. The pieces didn’t fit, so it’s bittersweet, but I’m not in a pit.
I’m still on a peak staring down at the valleys, I see the forest I’d lost myself in, and now I can rally.
I rally myself, I muster my spirit, I dive into my emotions and allow myself to feel it.
She may never know what these words mean for me to write, but even so, I am happy to bring them to light.
More words bleed out than what I knew I had left, and yet I feel steady. There is joy in each breath.
Words and Walls
You say words can’t pierce through this wall? But what if I write words worthy of making Jericho fall?
Words divined by inspiration from the heavens, words that are overflowing with detailed expression.
I express the feelings that have lain deep and dormant down in my soul, I set them free rather than take control.
So, these are the words that flow from my heart to page, I write them so that I may set the stage.
I cast the parts and design the show, all for a vision of something that can grow.
The curtains come up, and the walls come down all is revealed to an audience that doesn’t make a sound.
On the soundless stage, something new takes place.
Amidst the rubble and dust, the protagonist plays their part, a performer of the heart.
The heart grows stronger and knows what it wants, and so these words can be more blunt.
Blunt and sudden with a booming bellowing voice, the show has started, and so the heart can make a choice.
Do words have the potential to pierce through walls and veils? Or is this another day that words could not prevail?
In one final petition I ask that the performer play their part well. With the world a stage, the heart can certainly leave its shell.
Divided Attention
Can I see the forest for the trees? No, I am lost in the forest. It looks like the sea.
A sea of trees deep in the autumnal season, having lost all their leafs.
And through the bare branches, it is sun, shimmering on sap that sits and shines even when the day is done.
Because the night is not enough to take away this light.
The moon shines through the branches all the same, with starlight a fire flickers that does not burn, that does not maim.
Deep and unyielding, a sea of brown with flecks of silver and gold, the forest is alight, a story that is new yet old.
It is not that I see love in these trees. It is just that I am thankful that for a moment, they shined their light on me.
Distant Dreams
Distant memories haunt me today, ones I thought I had put away.
I let go, I moved forward, I felt peace that lasted; yet now my dreams take me, and they don’t take me past it.
Instead, I am taken to the past, to a time when my dreams were more vivid, consumed by you once more, and so I must live it.
I live in that dream, the one that I don’t want to be defining, yet you’re here again… in my writing.
I write you away as I’ve done once before, the dream fades, and my heart no longer sways.
I let go again, and hope that better times are on their way, I let myself dream, but this time of better days.
We are all boulders sitting in the bed of an ever flowing river barley moving as we watch the waters of life pass us by. The people and moments in our life move with the water, slowly ever so slightly eroding pieces of us. These pieces of us, we often don’t notice until they’re already gone. We often try to get our pieces back but we never really can. We can accept, however that in rare beautiful instances a person or a moment rather than take away will become one with us. So we are all a boulder sitting in a river slowly withering away, but we are also conglomerate masses of the people and things that made us who we are. It will often feel like your rock is an island in the river of life where nobody passes you by. We know in contrast that no man is an island, we become a piece of others and some become a piece of us. So, when you feel like you’re falling apart,know that you may be growing just as much, and know that you’re never truly alone. We are shaped by life, and sometimes that feels difficult and terrible to take. Each moment is worth it even through the pain, this life is an opportunity to be shaped into who we are meant to be; but moreover it is an opportunity to help shape others for the better. When the river is rough, your edges feel blunt, and you feel like you’ve been left alone beneath the waves; remember that God made this river and he also made you. The river can be rough, that’s the weight of this life, but it flows into eternity, and there we can all thrive. Here in the river before you make it to the end remember the affect you have on others, help them to seek a better end. Because we all flow into eternity, but the river splits into two paths, only one is good, but both are everlasting.
Self Accommodation
I finally find love where it always should have been, for myself, within myself, and all it took was for my heart to break and bend.
It bent to a place I would think is beyond repair, yet here I am lined with gold, overcoming all I’ve had to bare.
So I find this love, one that alluded me for so long, I make it mine, I let it make me strong.
I let this love blossom and bloom, within me is a new heart, one with space for me, one that has room.
I have room for others but I finally first and foremost accommodated myself, and in this I find a peace like nothing else.
Inspiration Strikes
This world is no longer meant for people who write, there’s no time to put pen to page when inspiration strikes.
Inspiration doesn’t take priority, it isn’t even on the list, we are busier then we’ve ever been, and there’s so much that we’ve missed.
So many words gone that could have brought beauty to all those who would read, but we had to go to work had to kill that seed.
So many seeds that will never grow because inspiration strikes like lightning, yet we run from it, we stay busy, and to me that’s frightening.
Why don’t we pay more heed to the beating of our heart, the expression of our soul, or a new days start.
Because each day is new and there are new words to share, yet instead we stay busy and forget to ever care.
We forget to care about beauty, love, and life, we go through the motions and push through our strife.
But today I stop, I give time to my words, they are precious and meaningful; they are meant to be heard.
So I take time today, I carve it out with a knife, my words will bleed out onto this page to prove that I’m alive.
Within the Waters
It’s all gone I’ve seen the last drop, the inspiration that flowed like a river has dried up and so it must come to a stop.
I write no more, at least not with you in mind yet still you helped forge me, I’ve been refined.
I am new, my heart is free, and so I write in regards to me.
I’ve taken a step forward into my own life, away from the need for someone else I can be my own light.
Yet still my strength comes from more than just me, I let God sustain me, so I move with the sea.
The river dried up but the sea is boundless I am within it so my opportunities are countless.
So I count it all up, everything I’ve gained, new life, new inspiration, new me, but with all the best old pieces still retained.
So I move with the sea I make it my own, I follow this path, and become comfortable with the idea of taking it on alone.
I didn’t need the river but I’m thankful for the path it made; I followed it to the ocean and it helped me out my grave.
So thanks to the river but I bid it Farewell, with the crashing of the waves, how will I be diffrent, only time can tell.
Heavy Hearted
How can I be comfortable carrying the weight of this heart of mine, how do I carry it each day, how do I face time.
Time adds weight because my heart only grows, so much to give with nowhere for it to go.
Yet there are places for my heart to give, people to reach, a new way to live.
To fulfill myself is to live my life through love, I will give myself with every life I touch.
Myself is enough so I give it freely, self sacrifice is my gift so I’ll give it daily.
Love is beautiful because of everywhere it can apply, it does not require romance and it fights through all lies.
The lies of this world are easy to breach if you’re comfortable with a heavy heart, and you’re willing to seek.
A heavy heart is not a curse, for its weight has meaning, and through that weight you find your being.
My heart tells its story, the story of its weight, it is heavy, but it is strong, that is its fate.
Tales of Dylan 