State-of-mind

Enjoy the present moment. 

Leave the past behind. 

The future isn’t here yet…

It’s all a state-of-mind. 

Slowly, but surely, transforming…

That’s what I am choosing to believe. 

I am able to give Grace,

Because I’ve been shown it. 

I thank God for that.

I haven’t been the person God intended.

I’ve been anxious,

Controlling,

Doubtful,

Faithless,

Ungrateful…

A monster. 

But it’s not over,

The page is turning…

The leaves are changing colors.

The dead is starting to breathe, once again. 

Revived by God’s spirit,

Into something strong,

Steady,

And free. 

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Immovable 

I want to tattoo “undesirable” on my forehead. 
But only for this moment. 

The permanent mark of it would do no justice. 

For I know, that the meaning of the word is only temporary and is not truthful. 

But I can’t help but feel this way. 

When two insecurities collide, it is a chaotic mess.

Like a hand grenade waiting to explode, 

Into broken tears and resentful words… 

How do you wipe away the residue of doubt, 

When the patterns are cemented and seemingly immovable? 

Advice 

Take yourself a little more seriously. 
Believe in the words that escape your mouth,

The ones that are spoken within you that often times leak out,

Believe in the spontaneous moments that are starving for your attention,

Believe in the beauty of nature, and how it is so mind-blowingly intricate that there must be a grand Creator.

Follow the beat of your heart that is good, by knowing it’s goodness derived from a sacred place. 

Know deep down that there is a bigger purpose and that your pre-destined role is needed. 

Apply the advice you humbly give. 

It was meant for you, before you gave it. 

Fuzzy Sweater

Comfortable.

Wrapped up in the coziest sweater that could wrap around a baby elephant.

But my mind is a circus.

I shouldn’t spend all my time within the warmth of the soft material,

Nor do I want to.

I want to be challenged and grow stronger,

But it seems my heart has molded and meshed into the strands of cotton.

I can’t focus on what He wants to teach me.

I am distracted,

And doubtful if it’s His voice I’m even hearing…

What is wrong with me? What am I lacking? What am I forgetting?

To cluttered and overwhelmed by the demands of this life and the many voices around and within me,

My time is spread too thinly, but my options are few.

I need to pause, just a moment, to catch my breath.

Then, I’ll be ready to hang up the sweater,

And my heart will be more prepared to handle the cold parts of this world.

Not because the sharp winds have stopped,

But because, in the quiet, the warmth of His presence will surround.

Through each pause, I’ll trust a little more.

Captivity 

Completely full, yet I stare blankly…
Paralyzed with thoughts that seem cemented to the inner linings of my brain. 

Thoughts that are wild and colorful,

Just waiting to be unleashed into sprints of action,

Yet there is a hesitation. 

There is a sudden panic of fear. 

Passion can be seen as silliness, or worse insanity…

That cripples me. 

I shouldn’t care, but I do. 

I need confidence. 

I need drive. 

I need the carelessness of a drunk, with a sober-mind still intact. 

Words speak volumes, but they are so hard to form,

So I stare blankly.

The Umbrella 

Lightning isn’t all that violent,

When you have experienced the strike of a word.

Silence can be just as destructive,

I learned that when you slammed the door.

The door of your heart has been locked,

And the flood washed away the key.

Now I am left wondering, with all these questions, 

In a panic of finding security.

Where’s my umbrella?

Where’s my umbrella?

I need my umbrella,

To cover all that’s left of me.

The Hurricane

There is a hurricane blowing. 
It’s wild and uncontrollable. 

Completely reckless and destructive.

It has piercing winds that blow,

And relentless rains that flood.

The eye, being the steady calm, before more waves of troubled tantrums occur.
But as time passes,

It grows tired…

With each violent episode,

It surrenders. 

I am like the hurricane,

Though my winds are gusts of sharp words.

From frustration and irritability of misunderstandings,

And wrongfully expressing the inner parts of my soul… 

And for the rains that fall, 

Mine are more like teardrops, 

Escaping confused eyes, searching for mercy. 

Unlike the eye, mine is off balance and seemingly unsteady,

This being the opposite of still, leaves my mind a cluttered mess,

Leaving me on a mission to find an answer to end this disaster.

But as time passes,

I grow tired…

With each violent episode,

I surrender.