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| I feel a bit like what I have been learning and dealing with (two very different things in very different arenas) are best (and probably most wisely) expressed in poems and favorite lyrics.
As a thought, I love that beauty is not easy: not easily defined, expressed, or won. This is a long and deep thought with as many twists and turns as the mysterious beauty itself.
~Quote~
“What I am is good enough if I can just be it.”
Carl Rogers.
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| I long to taste adventure like the nature of the sea,
Always moving, always hiding all the creatures from beneath.
Singing silent songs of sadness my heart waits for its chance,
To dance upon the ashes of my burned up little plans.
And I stand alone before the night.
My nakedness is so clear in the glow of the moonlight.
Life is old but so short.
We are young we want more.
I'm drowning, but I don't care,
Because when you got what I got, what I got, what I got
Who needs air?
You don’t need air.
My addiction to danger like the rush of the sea,
Like a wave on the rocks the lessons crash down on me.
I don’t need to prove the world to you only to myself.
So step back and look away as I dive into the swell.
I'm drowning, but I don't care,
Because when you got what I got, what I got, what I got
Who needs air?
I'm drowning, but I don't care,
Because when you got what I got, what I got, what I got
You don’t need air.
Take me down to the river like a little child,
Take my hand and tell me its okay to be wild.
I never knew the world until I saw through your eyes,
I never knew my self until I ripped off my disguise.
I’m drowning, but I don’t care,
Because when you’ve got what I got, what I got, what I got
Who needs air?
I have come to the realization that life is more than what I have accomplished.
And life is more then the realization that we have accomplished nothing at all.
True success is so selfless so drown in the lyrics of your life and give up the air that you breathe.
You don’t need anything.
By Classic Crime | | |
| Facts
13: Average age of girls who enter into sex trafficking in the U.S.
Sex trafficking is something that happens in homey backyards: there is thriving business not just in downtown NY which should be sickening enough, but here in good old Columbia, Missouri.
The girl (keeping in mind she's probably around 13 years old...what girls do you know who are 13? picture them and keep reading) who is engaging in prostitution is, when caught, going to be arrested for prostitution and thrown in jail. The man who raped her is going to be cleared once officials realize he paid her and will pay a fine.
This makes me cry in public places and sick to my stomach. Where to begin and how to help?!?
(ps, thanks to Mazvita for the quote)
~Quote~
Some wish to live within the sound of a chapel bell; I wish to run a rescue mission within a yard of hell." - C.T. Studd
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| In fairy tales,
they never tell
the hard stuff,
the boring stuff.
Much is spent detailing
the last step,
the final thrust,
the end battle.
But when it comes
to the how of the hero
coming through despite it all,
there are no stories.
Nothing on how hard it is
to get up day after day,
stretch sore muscles again,
just to keep walking.
No tales of chipping away
on what must, at all costs,
be destroyed yet
seeing no dent let alone results
Each disappointment
cutting a little bit of the heart,
sapping the strength
like the hot sun perpetually overhead.
Yet for all the sun,
no light seems to shine
on the path up the hill,
the kind with an imperceptible wearying slope
Frustrated tired tears fall.
Anger mounts because
there is little to cry over
but hope deferred makes the heart sick.
No tale glorifies
the training ground,
the long long long trudge,
the fight against unseen enemies.
Such things are merely a line in a book
a set up for the real action.
not so in daily life:
these dominate the pages of the real world
there is too much
it is too far
so little known
so much required
How can it turn out
good in the end?
There is so much evil
and I just want the end.
There is so much living
left to be done,
so much true deep magic;
yet the depths of dark threaten.
All the world seems to balance
on a thread, a knife’s edge:
one breath, one word, one life
is the sum difference between light & dark
With a heavy heart, step by weary step
I follow where I cannot see
guided & strengthened for each moment
by the Lord of Light & Author of life.
~
That would be a good ending.
But there is no satisfaction.
Something burns deep inside
and refuses to quit.
I want to be enjoying the flowers
on the long walk,
yet often the scent does not piece
the colorless, bone dry dust of the trail.
The bend in the trail is
exhilaratingly exciting and enchanting.
But the way is
flat, ugly, and dull.
It is not time to be there.
I am not yet ready.
But the stories failed to tell
how hard this walking would be.
There are so many, so so many
sick, broken, devastated,
along the way.
No pretty words for this, only ugly tears.
The trail looks
like a battlefield.
Make no mistake--
for it is.
The final battle
has already been decided,
but the war is on
and the casualties pile high
Porn addiction
Sexual trafficking
Broken promises
Cheaters
Beaters
The beaten
Suicide
Death of family & friends
Homeless
Severed friendship
Refugees
Those that stand by and do nothing
You see why the path is hard & long?
And why stories go untold?
It is too hard;
it hurts too much.
There are no quick easy answers.
Nothing here fit for bedtime stories.
No clever literary devices.
Nothing beautiful or inspiring.
That is why I refuse to quit.
My strength has long gone
but that fact does not matter,
for nothing I have is mine
When the story calls, I will celebrate
but now is a time for tears,
a time to keep walking,
despite and certainly because of the costs.
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| She sits
not in rest
not due to exhaustion,
because she does not know what else to do
As she sits
a blade plays
in the dry dirt
the rich yet lifeless earth at her feet
Tears come
but she can’t
explain why or from where
the deep pain keeps bursting forth
She stops
feeling utterly unworthy
devoid of former innocent beauty
pondering the breadth and depth of what is love
The blade moves
as restless as she
there is an adventure waiting
yet both are broken and still unfit to fight
There is more:
she came through
yet barely passed the test
so much potential but what will time tell
A strong blade
on a broken shaft
looking more solid every day
yet so many unseen fractures question reality
More still
an ability to reach out
healing grows from hurt
learned and taught only from the long painful lesson
She walks
still broken
but growing and moving
there is a slow beautiful hope not of her own
She waits
uncertain for what
listening for the call
Her life is joyfully her master’s
So she waits
not running away
not taking charge
walking, learning, preparing
For what?
big dreams
set on real life
seeking truth in the two apparent polarities
lonely
strong true family
several real friends
still not understanding the ultimate relationship
She sits
not understanding
yet completely living
the Lady of the Twilight Blade
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