We are weak and human and frail. 

But He has been here and walked these sands

He has made everything with His hands.

He sees the pain and can give us healing

but what do we do with our needs and feelings?

We bring them to the world, dirty as it is,

we should bring it to Christ since we are His.

We ask it for help, and He cries.

We ask it for peace, and He closes His eyes.

We ask it for freedom, and He dies.

We ask it to build us, and He sighs.

It's far from over and not too late,

 (This isn't really a poem, but I hope you will like it anyway)

I had imagined,

A starry night, an ethereal whisper whisper of wind and the deep, navy blue sea

Where tiny waves reflect the moon's rays

The scent of pine trees and salt engulfed me.

I had imagined,

My knitted, mauve top over my cold body,

My denim shorts leave my legs bare, absorbing the ivory moonlight

I'm running, leaping, spinning.

I had imagined,

The jade green and hibiscus purple burst out into the twinkling sky

Normal 0 Years later, Kaitlin came back to her aunt’s house. She was now sixteen and her aunt expected her to get married. She was planning lots of parties and calls and things like that. Kaitlin had never really forgotten her encounter with that boy. But now she pushed it to the back of her mind as she rode down the broad path to her aunt’s house. As she looked to the side of the road, she thought she saw something looking out at her from behind a tree. She shook it from her head as the carriage approached the front gate of the huge estate her aunt called home.

Chapter 9

Aalen walked a few feet from where Alegis and Jack were talking.
Taking a deep breath he disappeared.


Kalen was painting again: It was a picture of Nomen. The low-cut boots and the gray pantaloons had come out fine, the green jacket and white shirt were decent, but putting the black hair on the head was proving difficult. Kalen looked over his work again. The face looked pretty good except, it didn’t have eyes. Kalen started on the eyes and noticed something: the picture had moved.
Not the paper but the picture, the subject.

Thank you HomeschoolGirl for the title to this story.

One might say it was ironic, but he did not find it funny.

The wind swept over hallowed ground as darkness lay upon the earth. How ironic that his last glimpse of freedom was a graveyard.

Her hand was cold in his. He looked into her icy cold eyes and knew what he felt must be true.  The only human he'd ever loved had bound him into servitude.

Running underwater like a dream while you're awake.

No one tells you how to, but you do it anyway.

all day, all night, its like subaquatic flight. the water's not too cold, and the sun is not too bright.

When you're running, Flying, Faking it but making it alright, the flight is as easy as can be,

just start running underwater and come dream along with me.

We're running over water, and i finally can see.

that when running underwater try to never fall asleep.

hello... how do you do? you finally made it.. good for you.

this is a dream. and as you can see... we've made it be anything you want it to be.

you can go fly, go recolor the sky. this place was made behind the human eye.

this is a dream with a magical theme, and it lives for your wholesome delight.

adventure and sleep now combine in the deep where you live almost every night.

hello... come look at this. we've created things that don't normally exist.

alive
or at least not dead
I am not sure
I live just yet.

alive
or at least not dead
I am not sure
I live just yet.

captured
my heart securely caught
can barely breath
the lesson has been taught

manipulator
twisted round your fingers
release me!
yet still somehow I linger

addicted
fastened by your lies
barely allowed to think freely
yet when I'm with you I can fly

escaping
ripping painfully loose
I may walk alone
but I'll never recover from you