Friday, February 4, 2011


concerts play cathedrals, you know
the vaulted ceilings encasing hearts and harmonies alike,
for both heartstrings and harpstrings play echoing tunes.
sing-alongs at the tops of lungs
remain poster children for uninhibited unity,
and encore applause is one thousand times one thousand spirits saying,
"I beg of you. Don't be through with me yet."

a sea of lighters, a sea of devotion,
a fight for light.
a fight for the unextinguishable.
flickering fireflies
communicating wordlessly,
"I would nothing short of burn for you."

to take the offering from its place of worship
for splitting what grew together is unnatural--
fellowship loses strength as the venue retreats,
and communion becomes commonplace
once exit lights taint the elements.

to look across a sea of faces whose lips sync the same song
is to look across a sea of souls whose voices speak,
[for uninhibited unity is too baring not to notice],
of a similar wish:
to love another with the vibrance of a spotlight.

to praise another with the awe of a frontman
who sees no empty seats.
but the encore ends
and the curtains clap
and the exits open
and the congregation shuffles into the streets.

the vulnerability is both terrifying
and life saving.
the disciples' procession shifts in unison,
for they know this feeling's end as masterfully as its beginning,
and to know a feeling's end is to expect the feeling again.

dreams intersect where eyes do
as seemingly telepathic vows bounce between minds.
the experience is impossible to resurrect entirely,
but they must try.
not one ventures to define the risen,
but all refuse to die.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Climbed A Mountain

I was thinking about moving forward with people who have hurt you, and likened the experience to slowly adding hot water to a shower; ideally, the water gets hotter at the same rate you're adapting to it. The struggle with forgiveness is that the water is getting hotter a tad bit faster than your heart can stand. Not enough to harm you, but enough to cause discomfort. The thing is, not liking to handle something isn't the same as not being able to handle something. Now that my heart has been forced to burn more often than expected, my adaptation rate has changed. At this point, I feel the need to be exposed to just enough disillusionment and loneliness and heartache to cause discomfort. The trends of happiness, then, aren't weakened, but strengthened by the back and forth of it all.

"Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well I've been afraid of changing
Cause I built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older, too."

Ohh, Fleetwood Mac. How often I took this song for granted.
[Joni Mitchell pandora station FTW {for the win...}]