forest fires

Someday we’ll see the fire burning,

signals like smoke, rising in the air,

telling all about the rescue

we’ve found here.

And we’ll even see it

and marvel

at how such a small fire

could spread and light

an entire forest,

and bring it to life;

shadows dancing behind branches.

We won’t believe that

we lit that fire ourselves;

that we kindled it

and watched it grow,

and that as it grew

it took more and more weight,

but never broke.

How could a few simple people

create such brilliance?

How could one God

speak an entire earth into being,

where two hearts

would be fused together

like one,

underneath the leaves

of trees.

We’ll stand there,

arms around ourselves;

around each other,

and smile;

we made it.

photo via (we heart it)

"Sometimes we judge others most harshly for the sins we see in ourselves; we think that by revealing that sin in others, we won’t feel so badly about the wretchedness we see in our own hearts. But maybe in learning to love others, we could also learn to love ourselves. Maybe there is this wonderful cycle of love that we are meant to repeat, over and over, until all the world is loved and all the world is forgiven.” 

hiccups of the heart

There is this completion found 

in a four-lettered word;

A knowingness,

A realization.

Tempting to be held,

wishing to be heard,

yet forsaken.

 

It is here:

above us now,

floating in this space we

knew was there;

space we knew to fill,

but refused.

So we are here,

standing;

arms at sides,

not reaching out.

For there is something between us

and we are not willing

to climb the rails,

to board the train to completion.

We were syndicates once,

way back when;

fighting for the same cause. But 

now we’re soldiers

made of rock,

and steel,

and old ideas;

statues within ourselves.

There is a way to be known;

there is a road to completion.

Four letters get in the way:

love, unrequited;

and fear of repetition.

photo via (we heart it)

blind hope

The words come out:

said like staring into dark while

blind; pretending to see.

You’re saying that she’s wrong,

but you don’t know how deep

she’s dug

to get to the bottom

of hope.

This is where she closes in,

shuts her eyes to the noise

between the light of

dawn and day.

Says she’s blind, but she sees.

She’s been here before,

eyes adjusted

looking into a darkness known;

realized;

familiar.

Your secrets are safe with her so

don’t race your heart, love,

this is how she sings

her songs.

For here freedom rings out like a melody,

bells - telling us of how she

found hope amidst cloudiness;

clarity in despair.
Lights in dark places; fading
shapes we try to hold on to.

And you`re wandering, looking

for her

in every possible disguise.

But we all live,

and hope,

and dream for this.

We love,

and fight,

and we die for this.

So she wedges in a little more,

lips parted,

wondering how to voice these calms.

And you’re coming to, so slowly;

entering  into a blind awakening.

There is vision in blindness.

photo via (we heart it)

Fear Not?