a line i hoped he'd never write
a word i'd rather scratch
a turn the story didn't need
i thought so anyways.
my author wrote that stormy bit;
its darkness could be felt.
the rain sent shivers down my spine
and quiv'ring to my lips.
the tunnel dark was hard to grasp
why did it need to mar
the beauty of the written piece
that i had grown to love?
the final end, so sadly broken
but wrought by loving hands;
was mended perfect: tearful joy
finished it at last.
From the Darkness
Rises a Light
Standing strong
Pure and Holy
The Shadows flee
Terror in their eyes
For this one cannot be chained
Hi all! I am sorry I haven't posted in a while, but I have been having some trouble with internet explorer that has made it really hard to post anything. Since I haven't posted anything in a while, I decided to just post a short story instead of another chapter in one of my other stories. I hope you like it. The main idea that I want to get across is that Jesus is Lord of all and can use anything to draw his children closer to him. Please let me know if I got that message across. Was the thing with the light and the darkness confusing, or did it enhance the meaning?
She moves across the sky,
silken sails billowing with light
bright ivory next to midnight.
Stars all around,
dancing though the dark
life radiating from each little spark.
Mysteries revealed,
if just for a while
hiding within the Moon's secret smile.
Here's a little poem I wrote that I hope ya'll enjoy! Also, for those of you who didn't know, I wrote a second part to Amira.
JOYFUL MORNING
How long the night has been, Mother,
When will it be day?
Sorrow fills my mind;
Is the darkness here to stay?
Nay, my child, the night must end,
The sun shall rise once more;
There shall be a joyful morning
Of this I am sure.
Mother, the moon is clouded,
The stars I cannot see;
How can you trust the sunrise
**It's short, but there was nothing else to post it with.**
flick, flame
lick, claim
it starts to burn.
sparks fly in empty sky
no stars, no light to see.
we’re starting paper fires
burning bright as supernovas—
sparks find my empty mind
all I want is light to see.
we’re starting paper fires
bright, bright burning—
like supernovas, they don’t leave
anything behind.
you can’t save a star like you save a sandwich;
believe me, I’ve tried.
you can’t eat half and put the rest in the fridge saying,
“oh, I’ll save a bit for later.”
you can’t press them like you press flowers in a dictionary
flattened somewhere between “moth” and “mountain”
they always get rumpled, and they never come out right,
because anyway, they can’t read, and they get bored in there.
you can’t wrap them in foil, or plastic
or fancy cloth napkins
I am the necklace
you never wear.
You stuff my golden chain
inside the darkness
of your drawer
and neglect to set my sapphire
close
to your neck
to gleam, to shine
in fulfilling light.
The moon's soft glow falls on the ground
As the clouds gather to extinguish it's light
The silver lamp shines as the dark gathers 'round
To quiet the beauty of the slow-drifting night
The clouds envelope the diadem
Of radiant blue rock
But the beam plays patterns on the hem
While in the haze it's locked
But the dark cannot hold it in
And so gives up and floats away
While the faithful moon, of the old
Lights the earth the ancient way