oh hear the angel voices

i wish that when we spoke we were free to make words just as beautiful as when we write them. i want conversations to have a form, whether it be careful and aesthetic or ragged and tough. i want to think of a design when people are speaking to me.

rip it apart.

all of these ideals i have held on to so stubbornly. i dont know whether it is God telling me to loosen my grip or it is him asking me to find out whether they really matter so much to me or not. but why are they engraved upon my mind? i cant erase them. id have to fill them up with something else, and the options arent so appealing. i dont know. i dont want to hold out for the impossible, but i dont want to just let things become careless and meaningless. what is there to hope for? ive nearly had it and nearly lost it all at once.

why do i expect so much out of everyone and myself?

realising over and over how easier it would be to simply not care.

people tell me who i am. a strong person. steadfast. passionate. where is it taking me? i need a rest. i need to hold my weaknesses and get to know them. i need to tell you what they are.

i need forgiveness.

i need to ask.

little tree
[e. e. cummings]

little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don't be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i'll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy
then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they'll stare!
oh but you'll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we'll dance and sing
"Noel Noel"

i'm over my head in good intentions.

there are words beneath my flesh and bones, pushing up through my skin like braille.

ive been quiet lately. i think because all my energy is spent in trying to get my head (and heart) to calm down. it should be snowing. id like to be snowed in...watching old movies, writing letters, coloring, and reading. writing? i dont know how much ive got to say. sometimes id rather just be written on. take me and write all over me, and then i'll read the words back to you. i'll be your echo. and maybe if youre silent for awhile i'll read all that's been written in between the lines, things i am discovering for the first time.

howgoodisgoodenough?

everything's moving. i told things to stop, but they just didnt listen.

"please," she said. "i want to make something beautiful for you."

take everything that i say as only a grain of sand
put it all together into an hourglass
to mark the passage of time.

there has never been a perfect farewell.

'the heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?'
-jeremiah 17.9

i'll admit it - ive taken it for granted. no one has walked all over me. no one has stood in my way so that i couldnt move or even breathe without fear. only misfortune of my own doing, or misfortune far out of the hands of mere man. never at the manipulation of someone else.

it's a new perspective, to see things take shape in other people's lives. near and distant. it makes me want to be quiet. i know i have a lot to learn.

the new winterwake song is glorious. i want to play it over and over again.

here are the letters strung together...

[so long i have been afraid]

will you take me to where the words run out?
i have kept them so long that i ache with doubt
there are stars in these silences
bleeding scars help us breathe again
i have held on to windows of stained glass
you have seen through me and you take me past
these pale sighs take a rhythm now
in their tries to align with you
let me stay
close enough
so our hearts will beat in rhythm
there is a kind of sound in my mind
breathing new life
the loveliest music of old grand pianos
[so our hearts will beat in rhythm...]

http://listen.to/winterwake

my
only
mistake is
i keep hoping
i keep hoping
i'm hoping
my only mistake is
i keep hoping

it's december again.

last night a friend made me one of those origami fortune tellers. you know, the kind you made in elementary and middle school, about the time when you also played M.A.S.H. heh. i cant believe he still knew how to make one. pick a number. pick a color. here's your fate. i'm tempted to write on it and use it to determine my future.

i love christmas music the best of all.

let loving hearts enthrone Him.

these old songs are strong.

not much of a 'break' for thanksgiving. moving moving moving. calm down, please. everyone. this isnt what it is all about. [i am mostly telling myself this, but listen if youd like.] the first night alone ive had in some time. a breath of fresh air. just the freedom of a long span of time owned by no one but myself. i could handle some more of this... so, thanksgiving. arriving home at 7am on thanksgiving morning, having ridden more than three hours pressed into a tiny, luggage filled car along with four boys [all long-legged, at that]. time with family. the calm of tradition. a saturday wedding. all dressed up, and still blanketed in something that leans more towards hope than plain happiness. ah. i'm happy to hope. am i a mean person? sarcastic and cynical. but you know i love you, dont you? i need more courage, please. courage to speak my thoughts. courage to be alone. courage to work hard.

my flesh and my heart fail.

you havent failed me yet.

a roadtrip to atlanta
back in the morning
seeing the sun rise
the way that the sky turns to that perfect shade of blue
it's indisputable.

"until you learn to run from these broken days...until you learn to die from these selfish ways..."

a change is somewhere around the corner.

cut and dry.
cut and paste this part of me into another chapter.
see it revisited.
repeated in the table of contents.
books, books, books.
ive read this one before - i know i have...
so familiar...
but dont tell me the ending.
i'm not yet ready.

long conversations and bleeding ears.

this isnt so bad after all.

there are quiet memories that dont press hard to make themselves known, yet write themselves all over my mind so that they have colored whatever i may experience.

at 5 this morning we watched shooting stars.
it makes me always want to be happy, to know that there is such beauty.

and movement.

m o v e m e f o r w a r d

please.

[do i know what i am asking for?]

it's today.

words quietly kept, and thus quietly given.

a new idea - a stronger hold of words, perhaps...but what a silly concept...
how is it that i or anyone can think there is control over these letters and symbols...arranging them in groups and formations...a crass manipulation at best.

i only want to know them.

and then - only then - maybe we will begin to know one another.