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.
depression
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.
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.
Pens and Pain
It’s going to hurt a little, but that just means that what you feel is real, so ready yourself, become sturdy like steel.
The words that will come will be tied with a little pain, but there’s a reason they’re coming out, a reason they shouldn’t just stay in your brain.
You bleed with your words, you cry, you shout, this just means you’re alive, so try to stand stout.
Words can heal, and change perspective, they will always be worth writing even if they don’t achieve your intended objective.
Words hold power of life and death, so use them to love and don’t worry about the rest.
The pen uses blood more than it uses ink, so keep yourself healthy, and don’t be afraid to think.
So think with your heart and feel with your mind, if that doesn’t make sense then just give it time.
There is so much beauty in this life and it’s all worth expressing, even if it hurts, because those are life’s most beautiful and imactful lessons.
The Fires We Carry
A faint flickering flame that refuses to fade away, there is reason for it to burn, and so it will stay.
It burns because it matters not because it seeks to burn bright, instead it accepts itself as this…just a faint light.
Yet this light is enough, there is reason for it to be, because for one to have a light does not rest on reciprocity.
This flame it blazed and grew, but there is always a time to let a flame burn true.
A flame burns truest when you let it find its own pace, it was not meant to burn brightly, yet it still leaves a trace.
I carry the flame with me, I wouldn’t dare put it out, for the fire is somehow a reminder of what rain can do in a drought.
Duplicity, warmth, light, and something that only gives, this fire will burn on with me so long as I live.
Restoration in the Quiet
I know that words do not have the power that I wish they did, there is so much more, and in that life’s mysteries are hid.
I wish with just my words I could change what people see and feel, but that is not true life…that is not what’s real.
Because words often aren’t enough, I’ll act, I’ll pray, I’ll try to give out love.
For love is not only expressed in words, it’s the actions, the attitudes, the heart that is stirred.
Now my heart has been stirred, and words were once again not sufficient, but in myself I still find a passion that is relentless.
I have purpose and my words still hold power, they come from a greater source, and so they are worth a painful hour.
For when words are not enough my Lord still makes me whole, words were not enough, yet still He restores my soul.
An Ending Well Met
Restoration and growth, I found in myself the ability to let go.
I said what I needed to and in that I found my peace, I escaped great loss and know now what it’s like to be free.
I’ve seen you for who you are and am able to let this pass I wish nothing but the best for you, and I know that feeling will last.
My soul restored, my ability to write still around, I accept in this moment a peaceful and comforting sound.
The sound of my inner voice resounds in my mind, I am enough, so to myself I will be kind.
I have found this peace through you and through God, one with myself accepting these feelings though they may be odd.
I am me and you are you, through simple clear communication I have come to know truth.
The fruit of my efforts did not grow what I had sought, but I still feel closure and that is saying allot.
An end to a beginning that was fruitful and great I accept this today, I accept our seperate fates.
If only I had met you at a diffrent time, yet maybe this was how we were meant to meet and that can be sublime.
Sublime, the perfect word to express the end… though of course In such a word I would always welcome something to start again.
Tales of Dylan 