that which is yet to come

grace - a beautiful word, a word which incites emotion in me, a humbling word. i hope to write of grace one day.

charades

Lavish me with compliments.
Blind me with your praise.
Adorn me with sweet sentiment.
Fool me with charades.

Cherish me for time eternal with your put-on words.
Love me with divergent passion, tones of muddled bliss.
Speak to me in borrowed moments, of a future quite remiss.
Whilst I in faithful servitude, forever loyal will remain;
casting wishes into night, that alas will end in pain.

golden touch

dancing drops of sunshine fall gently from the sky.
fresh and cool upon my skin, the little rain drops glide.
the golden warmth of sunset takes me in its arms.
i yield to it and like magic, i too shine.

an imperfect thing

quiet suits me. in it lies immense possibility, limitless direction.
truth is told in silence. fear falls away, love is exposed.
it frames my humanity. i am but one tiny thing in a grand universe.

i am myself in this quiet. not that which others perceive and i inevitably live into. no airs, no weighty layers of expectation, no struggle. in it i can appreciate the blessings that have been bestowed upon me.

this silence is refreshing, it provides a cleansing of the spirit. the challenge is to hold on to all that is gained once i let the "noise" back in. every time i try, only to return to this place an imperfect human.

...the phone rings.

what comes in whispers

words are sometimes spoken gently, yet their power is beyond reproach.
truth be told in subtle tones, sounds of peace alight,
but in one's ear the words are screaming, pleasantries are slight.
and in one's heart the pain is searing, the words, their meaning does encroach,
steadfastly one guards against them but words surpass one's might.