The Showdown

Metaphorical darkness shrouds this room
It's filled to it's rim, and flowing over on all sides
With a single source of light attempting to grow
To spread
The metaphorical darkness is gaining control of the scene
As the light tries to grow

"You will not surpress me!" Screams the light.
But the darkness yells back, "You are weak, little light. Become part of the darkness, and you will have overwhelming power, such as that of which we bear."

The light dims at the words, but still tries
The darkness presses on, "You are nothing. You can't light up this mass of darkness, you might as well give up."

The light lessens, and is getting weaker. It is nearly taken out, like a candles' flame blown off the wick, and the wick is left with smoke in remembrance of the flame.

The darkness sways and stirs. It grows thicker than blood. To wade in it would be as wading against a river's current. The room is bitterly cold. The darkness closes in on the light as the ocean swallows the shore. Inching and inching. Pressing and pressing. Slow. Painfully agitating the light in it's patient, but pressuring accusation.

But an outside light pours in, and the darkness does not understand it. It scurries, and leaps for the nearest caverns.

The light that was once small is revived by the greater one, and is brightened.
"Oh, greater light. Always be here with me." Says the lesser light.
"I will be here. I am everywhere. But you will not always feel me. Those times will help your light to grow and function with a greater luminosity." Says the greater light. It then gives a departing kiss, and leaves a shimmering trail. The lesser light is left to fend for the light, only strong enough by the power of the vital part of it given by the greater light.
Ready for another showdown of darkness.

The Sun Deceives.

I've been given a threshold of Joy
It gently kisses my heart
And one is all I need
To be freed from my numbness

The night tells me to retire
But my heart doesn't quit
So I tell the night off
And it tells me farewell

The next day brings more sunlight
More illumination than usual
This simply can't be a normal day
This day holds something of secrecy

-----

My theory is proven
And the day rejects the dawn
The sun hides from it's unbearable shame
And I curse at the moon
For the moon hid this secret from me

I knew it by my tears
For my tears held the answer
They too betrayed me
For they knew it
But merely hinted me

I eavesdropped on the pain
For I could not have it kept from me
Because I might not deal with it later
I couldn't let denial set in
But denial did tempt me

So now that I know
The sun cannot hide any longer
But it can deceive me to believe
That the weather has changed
Because, in fact it has not

So here I rest in my cold skin
I tell the sun it is a liar
And it bears the blame
For it cannot warm this cold skin
And so I sit here and shiver

And the sun doesn't represent the day.

My heart is constrained
In my constricted bones
And near my exhaling lungs
Because I can't feel you inside
And I can't seem to pray
Music about you merely resonates through my ears
But fails to resonate in my heart
I know you are listening
But I can't feel you inside
My soul is deprived
And I'm lapping up your words
But this time they don't quench my thirst

Sometimes we grope at you aimlessly
When we can't feel your heart
Sometimes we feel our hearts are bricks inside
When you have made your house within
Sometimes we feel our eyes are too dry to express it
Even our hearts can't seem to sob
Dear God, if anything, give me pain
I'd rather feel pain than this empty numbness
I'd rather cry than to laugh at this time
Because pain benefits me more than happiness

Tear me down, Father. And break my heart

Night Melody

I look out on the vista
Abstract in comparison to others I've seen
New skies don't swirl
And sunsets don't always have green

The grass tickles my bare feet
I slightly wince, but I take delight
Soon this sun will hide
Soon the moon will bore the night

The sun burrows itself in the ground
The skies are missing it already
They are still cheering
Still pursuing the sun, but now ready

The sky says it's last goodbyes
And gives greeting to the lesser light
A drifting night wind welcomes goose flesh
And the moon shines with it's gleaming might

The trees sway to the gentle melody of the calm night
And the stars twinkle in tune
I strain my ear to hear them beckoning a song
The trees partner with the grass

The moon shies away behind the dark out-of-contrast clouds
But the trees still dance, and the waters join in

The breeze whistles the tune
The locust catches on, and the owls hum with him

I call out to the moon, "Oh please, will you join us?"
But the moon's gleam is faint behind the stubborn cloud
It makes an attempt to show itself
But that stubborn cloud made itself a shroud

We sing louder, we sing to the melancholic blackness above
Till the clouds will part
And the moon illuminates our freedom melody
This song won't end, it's merely the start

A long night rests ahead, and we will not give, we tell the clouds
They at last change their brightness to match the moon
And divide themselves into speckled bits of cotton
And the moons light shines, and we dance with him

The friend we all search for

When you have no one else
Do you know I'm still here?

When your heart is breaking
Do you know that I can

mend it?

When everyone lets you down
Do you know that I can pick you up?

When you feel you have not a friend
Do you know that I want your friendship?

When you feel lonely

Do you know that I am always here?

When you are crying
Do you know I can wipe your tears?

When you are afraid
Do you know that I'm here to remove that fear?

When you are desperate
Do you know that I'm here to cure your desperation?

If you know these things, why don't you let Me work through you?
Your hurting will always lead you to Me, if you let me take you in My arms.

Don't hold in these feelings anymore...be honest with Me.
Cry, scream, and yell your frustration with the world to Me, and know that I feel the same.

Box

I'm contained
At least I'm not insane
But I just might veer towards insanity
If I continue down this path of isolation
I'm isolating my feelings
Isolating my heart
Isolating my mind
Into this finite box
It doesn't even physically exist
It's something my mind made up
But I hate it
I hate it
I kick it into the road, but it won't go away
I kick it to a cold climate, but it merely freezes
I beat it flat, but it remains
I incenerate it, but it only turns to ashes
The ebony ashes blow into my face
Now I can't hide the box at all
The box is now completely visible
I wear it on my face with shame
Forever I'm stuck with this box
Forever I am flawed with this box
I will continue to wash my face
But it will never be completely gone

Poetry once again prevails.

Im screaming in your ears
But you don't listen
Your ears are tuned to my voice
But the words are foreign
I search for someone to speak my language
But I'm still yelling at these walls
I'm isolated by my pride
I'm consolidating my thoughts
Constantly the off-beat rhythms
The ones resonating inside
They won't prevail
For I don't know what language to express them
For if I were to use my own words
They would merely ring in your ears
And if I use other words
How will I know how to communicate my heart and mind?

I yell, and I kick and scream inside
I'm just a child that's upset with the world
I'm accepted into hypocracy
Though that's not where I'd like to be

Narro Sico

Tracy stood outside the small coffee shop. Her hands were clenched by her sides, and were prespirating. She wiped her hands on her jeans.
For too long she had been silent. All her life she was known as, "The quiet one." She had no friends, because she never talked to anyone. Today, she wanted to change that.
She pushed open the door to the coffee shop, heart thumping in her chest. She felt her pulse in her churning stomach.
She scanned the small coffee shop. There was a young couple off to her left. They were texting and not paying attention to each other, and there was a chair pulled up to the table with a small baby that was fussing. They both contined in their own worlds as if the baby wasn't there.
There was a cashier that looked at Tracy suspiciously. Her hair was deshevled and she appeared to be lacking sleep. To her right was a few scattered adults and teens, much older than her, chattering and laughing.
Something bumped her back, she turned and realized she was blocking the door, she took a couple of steps forward. A man who looked in his thirties stepped past her and muttered something under his breath. She found her voice and told him sorry while his back was turned to her. He found a seat near the corner, plopped down and took a ciggarette from his pocket. He then withdrew a lighter and flicked it to life.
The cashier glared at him and said in a straight forward tone, "You can't do that in here."
He got back up, and stomped out, bumping against the chair where the mother of the baby sat.
"EXCUSE YOU!" She yelled.
He ignored her, brushed past Tracy, and exited.
"Well, are you just going to stand there or are you going to order something?"
Tracy looked up and saw the cashier was staring her down. She knew it was now or never. First, she knew she had to draw attention to herself.
"WHO DO YOU THINK I AM!? WHAT KIND OF PLACE DO YOU HAVE RUNNING HERE?!" She yelled.
The chatter and laughing in the coffee shop was silenced, along with the cries of the baby.
Everyone stared at her. She lowered her voice, "I apologize, but I need everyone's attention. I have vital information."
She had the whole coffee shops' attention, so she pursued, "I once was quiet, but I was given a gift that I can't keep silent about."
The people of the coffee shop searched each other's expressions.
"I believe anyone who knows what I'm talking about shouldn't be silent either. One day, we might not have the legal rights to speak up, and that is the love of Christ. His love is not to be treated as something that you are to keep to yourself."
She knew that statement would welcome some grunts and protests. Nearly the whole shop was protesting, except for couple of people. She raised her voice to drown them out, "If anyone here has been silent when you knew you needed to say something, I'm going to give you a chance to join me and make yourself known."
The man who went outside with his ciggarette came storming in the coffee shop again. He bumped against Tracy, nearly knocking her over, and returned to his seat he sat in before he was sent outside. Tracy knew she had to continue, although most of the attention she once had was gone. She was now yelling, "IF ANYONE HERE ADMITS THEY HAVE BEEN TOO SILENT ABOUT CHRIST, EITHER STAND RIGHT NOW, OR RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU ARE ALREADY STANDING."
Tracy lifted both her hands, closed her eyes and tilted her head upwards. She waited a few seconds, then opened her eyes again.
She saw the cashier slowly lift her hand, tears now streaking on her face.
The mother of the baby stood and raised her hand. Her boyfriend grabbed her arm to try to get her to sit down, but she yanked it away.
The man sitting in the corner who had went to get a ciggarette got up once again, but he did not raise his hand. He wore an angry expression. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a gun. The coffee shop broke out in a panic.
"Girl, you better get out of here right now, or I will silence you." Said the man.
"I'm sorry, but I've been silent too long. I won't be silent anymore. But if you decide to silence me by force, so be it." Said Tracy.
The mother of the baby got out of the guns path and grabbed her baby.
There was a loud bang, and Tracy fell to the ground with a bloody hole in her forehead.
The girl at the cashier picked up a phone and started dialing 911. The man aimed the gun in her direction and fired it again, making her collapse to the floor.
The mother remained standing with her baby.
"SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!"
She did as he commanded.
He put his gun back and stormed out of the coffee shop.


Tracy was not silenced. Her heroism sparked a new generation of believers who started an origanization called, "Speak Up." The mother who had sat down at the gunman's commands started the organization. She felt she had to make it up to God because she chose to be silent when facing death.
After the cashier had dialed 911, The cops showed up just in time to arrest the gunman. He is serving a 30 year term in prision for second-degree murder.

We are blind to our own selfishness and pride

Humans sputter their words through a sharp tongue
Words pierce the soul
The soul is torn at an end
Yes it will mend, but not completely heal
Us human's souls are just not repairable
Constantly accusing others of their self-loving state
When we are the same in our sinful ways
We make endless attempts to convict others
When we ourselves are worthy of conviction
So to say one is prideful of one self
Is to be hypocritical, accusing someone of an action
When they themselves are committing the same sin
When they are accusing one of selfishness
They are accusing them of not leveling up to their own standards
How can you size a persons level of selfishness unless you yourself are being selfish, and are doing the same thing by accusing them of not leveling up to their own standards?

We are so selfish, that we accuse each other of selfishness and are blind to the fact that we ourselves are being selfish when accusing others of their own selfishness, thus accusing them of something they themselves are guilty for, thus saying that they themselves are not currently in the state of selfishness, and therefore being prideful of their position, and therefore proving themselves selfish for taking into account other's problems, instead of focusing on their own...and why? Because they are full of pride. And the prideful one says that they are not prideful, but it is not them who is not prideful...it is that they are so prideful of their position that they don't even know they are prideful. They are prideful, because they say they are not, when in reality we all are. Some say they are not prideful because they want to come off as someone humbled, therefore gaining credibility, and adding to their pride even more because they are looked at as one who is admirable for, "not being prideful."

Why do we accuse others of selfishness when we end up acting the same by the accusation?

How do I know this? Because I myself am prideful and selfish. Each day I loathe it, and each day I strive to be stripped of it, piece by piece. It is not me who is stripping myself of my pride and selfishness. It is God. And he can strip you of those also.
We need to admit we are selfish and prideful, and have God do something about it.