Fire refines

Just because you hide in your shelter from fire does not mean you will not be burned.
Just because you have been burned does not mean you need to hide.
The fire has a mind of its own, undiscriminating, unrelenting, and without consideration.
And sometimes the fire is in your mind.

Just cause you run does not mean someone is chasing you,
Even if you wan them to,
Sometimes you just need to run.

Sometimes you run from the things you love in the hope to find them.
Sometimes you run into fire.
Sometimes you need to feel the burn.

Sometimes the fire only consumes the offering you placed out for it.
Sometimes it consumes the alter whole.

No one truly understands the ramblings of a demented mind.
That is why no one reads, or writes, the thoughts they hide.
Who places the rating on the movies of our mind?
What projectionist places the reel in the theater as I try to make myself fall asleep?
Have I ever seen the final act?

Who determines the content of my dreams?
Who can tell me why I dream in the first place?
Who can interpret my dreams if I cannot remember them?

I can turn my dreams to anything by my will, but to fulfillment. 
So how can I set fire to my mind?
To burn my thoughts away from me yet not be burned.
The thoughts that torment us are created in our minds by the fores that wish to free us.
The darkest thoughts are the only thoughts that we control.
We push them away only to be overtaken by them, until the day we overcome.

So now we have understood the madness,
So now we have discovered the master of our mind.
We wish now to dis spell the mystery but not understand the truth.
So we hide in the simple things, but the grand realization is beyond us.
We turn to God because the questions he placed in our hearts are bewildering. 
Because we want some sort of comfort when we die.

We do this because we lack the faith to face it with open eyes.
Just because there is a fire does not mean you need to hide.
Just because the world is burning does not mean you will die.
Just because the light goes out does not mean the fire has ended.
Pray for fire, and the scorched earth of your soul.
Just because the fire is burning does not mean it is not beyond your control.
God is in the fire.
Just because you hide does not mean you will not get burned.
Fire refines.

You Are Love

If you truly love someone you must be willing to let them go.
And then fight like hell to get them back when they leave.
Because you were such a dumb ass to let them go in the first place.

If you truly loved them it would not have come to this,
It would have been filled with joy each and every day.
Not easy, sometimes ungodly hard, but worth it.
If you truly loved them it would not have come down to this.
Because love does not beg, but believe.
It does not grovel, but hope.
It does not cry, but overcome.

So if there is still love between the star crossed souls of this earth,
Not the Shakespearean, not the erotic, not the infatuated, but the true souls trying to make it work but being churned up by the godless way of a world beyond their control,
If that love still exists, then it is true love.

Fight like hell for it. Even if it is a battle among friends.

When people stop believing in love they try to destroy love.
When you cannot understand love you try to hide.
When you have been hurt by the one you love you want to die.
For there is no true life without love, and when you cannot give it you cannot feel it.
And sometimes you simply cannot make it on your own.
So we ask, where does love come from? How do I get it? How do I feel it? Can I have a bit of it, if only to give it away?

The source of love does not live inside of you until you let yourself go.
Yet the lack of love destroys you.
So how do you let yourself go when there is nothing left to hold on to?
The answer is to feel a love beyond your control.
To understand the force inside of you that is trying to destroy the part of you that can feel love,
And listen to the voice that tells you that is not who you are.
You are not the destructive force, but the soul being attacked.
Not the one causing pain, but the one feeling it and passing it on.
So you must let yourself go.
And allow yourself to simply be the source of love for others.
Love can only spring forth from love.
And all love has a single source.
And that source is you.
Only you.
You are love.

I am sitting in my family room.
How did it become to be called a family room in the first place anyway?
Have you ever seen a family in the family room?
I have seen a family in the TV room, in the movie room, or in the game room.
But what does a family do in a room alone?
And what do I care, and why would I post this for the world to see?
Will they help me have quality time with my family?
Truth be told I am down here writing while my wife us upstairs thinking of yet another nasty thing to say to me.
Truth be told, no matter how much I wish in my mind she would just stop, she will not.
Drive me, drive me, drive my further away by your comments.
I am just a leaf on the breeze.
By the time you realize this, a leaf will no longer be a leaf, just mush in a heap of leaves.
So be it.
I wished I could have been a flower anyway.

No One Loves

No one cares, but me, about me.
Besides God, and all those that love me.
I know the truth but my eyes can't focus.
I know the meaning of this world, and it is not good.
I also know the meaning of my soul, and it was good.
Know the meaning of life is good.
And that the fight against the darkness is the spark that brought you into this world.
So finish the race. 

God's purpose is not to create us in the image of ourselves we see in our own mind, but in the image of what he sees of us in his mind. So do not curse the hand of God when he cuts so deeply.

The day you see the sun

The power of an engaged mind should not be underestimated.

The determination of a soul accomplishes impossible things.

The result of prolonged purposeful focus is the breaking of stalemates held for centuries.

I turn the light of my mind to the source of life deep inside of me.

Deep inside were no other mind can see, and I focus my piercing gaze.

I shall stare until you move or my eyes burn through you.

I arise in me a spiritual expectation, I fill my mind with wonder.

I lock in my mind to the single thought until if feel a vibration in the reality only I can control.

Keep myself in the moment until I feel that tingle in my spine.

Till the uncontrollable expectant breath.

Till all the muscles in body tense then pulse in a burst of ethereal force.

Cause today is the day, the only day, the singular day of my existence; and I will not miss it.

I feel my God beside me, I feel the bumps rise as his breath runs across my skin.

My entire body at the ready, the sum - that is greater than the parts of me awakens.

Hold steady now as the lips of God draw nigh to your ear, hear the whisper of life.

Today is the day my son,

Today is the day, the day you are born,

Today is the day you see the sun.

Be careful what you ask God for

Destitute, alone, and dying,

In inconceivable amounts of pain,

My soul knocks on the great door with its final knock.

The same door I have sat by and knocked all the days of my life.

All religion and philosophies aside, I have wasted my life.

Yet I am a repository of all the grace I have been given.

My life used up buy my love has not,

It’s just that at this point I find no one to give it to.

And I feel a vast emptiness, because I never found the answers I sought for.

Even though I came to understand I would not find them on this side of death's cursed door.

What was the point to my existence here anyway?

My love exists in those I have loved as they also reach the wretched door.

And has not advanced them in the slightest to the answers they have searched for.

For I know they cannot be found,

But by the faith I lost and can no longer find,

Because I no longer find it as true.

There was simply not enough evidence to convince me,

Besides the unmet longing in my soul.

So this is the bitter end,

And there is nothing left to be said my friend,

But goodbye.

Life and the joy of youth will continue without me.

And the misfortune that has followed me will pass with me.

To my unmarked grave,

To my ashes spread in the wasteland I lived in.

To feed the roots, to grow the fruits, to be eaten by future hopeless souls.

To continue the grand deception that there is meaning to be found in this life.

But there is life yet to be lived in this body before its pointless end.

And I do not wish to take those days away from it.

And my eyes still find beauty in the fading flower.

So when I go, even alone, I cannot find fault in the energy that sustained me along the way,

And the hope that this life was but one of my eternal days.

Who is the one who forces me to write a last line of hope when all I searched for is despair?

Why do the stanzas that begin in emptiness find their end with some new thought to sustain them?

Other then that I have found the bedrock of my existence,

Even though I do not understand it.

And If I have that in the end I am not destitute.

If I have that in the end I cannot die alone.

It was my body, which that thought – my soul, found as home.

That thought alone.