Dear church, Thank you for showing me how messed up I was. I wouldn't have realized that you messed me up if your doctrine didn't tell me I was. Thank you for showing me that I can achieve anything if I die to myself. The more I die to myself, the more I'm not accepted … Continue reading Dear Church
Here I am, being as an ocean. I am complete in all. I am the birth of life and the destruction of a storm. I am the blue sky and the water that nourishes you. You are in me and I am in you. There is nothing that can separate. The wind moves with me … Continue reading A Poem: Waves
I sit in my car and listen to songs that once brought me so much pain and I realize that it still remains. It's not a ringing in my head like a migraine of suffering, but rather, it's a still small voice. I hear the whisper and realize that I am still healing. I'm not … Continue reading A Poem: Though Subtle, It Whispers.
Point the fingers and the crowd comes running. I see the play but it's not funny. The mass creates its own demise. They create their own dark skies. People like to see elephants. The same people don't act to make a difference. I'm sick of digging graves to expose your skeletons. You won't clean out … Continue reading A Poem: People Only Care When I Point Out Elephants and Skeletons
Sitting and staring and thinking and sitting, The Self alines with colors of skylight, I'm depressed sometimes because people don't know me, It's evident that I'm caught in a rusted goodbye. In splendor, I talk and with love I reverberate, I sing to the moon but no one replies, I sit in silence and … Continue reading A Poem: My Friends are My Thoughts
As I've traveled through my own dilemmas of spirituality, I've changed a lot. I have navigated through deconstructing my Christian faith, picked up the ashes that I was left in, and reconstructed into something that I honestly wouldn't have seen two or three years ago. With everything that's changed in my life and in my … Continue reading What’s Next for Me?
Life is short, and suffering is inevitable. Life is suffering and suffering is short. For so long I've held suffering in the palm of my hand, and for that I now understand. Life is short and but a small vapor. With a gust of wind it comes and goes. Vapor makes its way back to … Continue reading A Poem: To The Bottom of The Ocean