Monday, April 23, 2012

Probably The Most Meaningful Poetry I've Ever Written (A Cycle Of Alpha Poetry)

All you have to do
Is everything.
We only expect
Your best.
But what if my best
Isn't good enough?
What if my everything
Isn't anything?
What then?
How will I ever live up
To your expectations?

Back with a vengeance
Feelings of sadness
Low self-esteem
Shame, self-pity
I say "back", but
They never really left
I just buried them
With facades of normalcy
As soon as I took off the cover
There they were
Waiting to be reborn.

Can hardly wait
Till tomorrow
Or the next day
Or the next day
Or whenever it is
That things get better.

Desperately seeking answers
I go to the Word, and find
More questions, but even more
Answers. He knows my thoughts
My dreams, my aspirations
My worries, my fears, my heart
And His best is yet to come.

Every time I'm not there
I feel guilty. But is it them
I don't want to disappoint? 
Or is it Him that I'm afraid
To lose? He's not going anywhere
And I'll be back, but how far
Will I have slipped in the meantime?

Fleeting thoughts
Of bad decisions
Quickly stifled.
There is a way
That seems right
In a certain light
But proves dreadful
In the light of day.
It's always better
When you can see
What you're getting into.

Green with envy
And not proud of it.
I struggle to reconcile
Myself with the fact
That others have more
Because they deserve it.
Maybe they work harder
Or maybe they're just lucky.
But worrying
About what I have
And what I don't
Won't do any good
And neither will wishing.
I can work harder
Try harder, be harder
And it will either happen
Or it won't. 
There's not much else
I can do to change things.

Happiness is
Contentment is
A better goal.
What's the difference?
One changes
Your perspective.
The other changes
Your life.

If you want to live
Your best life now
You won't find it
In a bestselling book
That only serves to
Make its author rich.
You won't find it
In wealth, either.
Hasn't it long been
Established that
Money can't buy
Happiness, and that
The love of money
Is the root of all evil?
Your best life now
Isn't green in color.
Your best life isn't
Being in the black.
Your best life is
Covered in red.
What's that?
Your best life now
Is putting your "later"
In the hands of the One
Who shed His red
For the blackness
Of your soul
So that you could
Be made white
And pure, and whole.
That's your best life.

Just in the nick of time
I found my purpose.
I was *this close*
To giving in and settling
For mediocrity and stagnancy
When I realized – there's more
So much more that I can do
For my fellow man, so much
To live for, other than myself
And my interests and desires.
Right on time, I stopped myself
And let Him start His work.

Keeping her in mind
He bowed his head
And said a prayer
Of thanksgiving.
Grieving her death, but
Grateful for her life
And the joy she brought
To those around her
Some of whom she never
Knew by name, or by face
But whose heart she captured
By being herself, a servant
Faithful to the end.

Love is a four-letter word
But so is hate, and so is hope
And so is wait, and so is stay
And so is live, and so is cope.
Brief words speak volumes
While big words mean so little.

Most of what I say
Is meaningless.
Every now and then
I'll inject a bit of truth
Into my make-believe.
But I wouldn't joke
About this. Everything
I've said today, I've meant.
Believe it or not, I believe
In unseen things. Because 
The evidence is overwhelming.

Not what you expect
When you open a page
(Printed or posted).
You've seen it all before
(And maybe you have)
But this is new. This is
Real. This is life and death.
How will you respond?

Over time he's worked to gain
A better understanding
Of the things that scare him.
Like forever – a concept
He can't quite wrap his brain
Around, and that makes him
Physically ill to try to fathom.
And like forgiveness, which he's
Heard of all his life, and has
Experienced first-hand, but never
On that level. Never "total forgiveness"
No matter what he's done wrong
And regardless of what he's done right.
That just doesn't make sense.
It's not natural. Speaking of which –
He also can't fully grasp the truth
That the supernatural exists.
But he's studying, he's learning
And he's asking questions. There are
Plenty of people who are able to help him
Better comprehend. But are they willing?

Peace I've mined
From wells of wisdom
Ancient and modern
Has gotten me through
The toughest times
In my life – which
Admittedly have been few
But there have always
Been challenges. After all
If life isn't challenging
If there aren't difficulties
To learn from, then are we
Truly living, or just existing?

Quote the right sources
And the advice you give
Will be beneficial, and lasting.
Repeat the words of those
Who speak their minds
And not the truth, and you
Will likely do more harm
Than good. Think first, then speak.

Rounding the bend
And heading home
She stops to listen
Only for a second.
A cry for help
Distracts her.
She could just
Keep on moving
Reach her destination.
But the cry would
Haunt her dreams.
Not knowing if she
Could have saved a life
Or made a bad day better
She can't (she won't)
Just walk away.
This is her blessing
And her curse.

Sadly, most people
Won't ever read
A word I write.
I say "sadly" – not
From selfish motives
Or a desire to be
Widely read, well-known
Famous, if you will –
But because I feel
That there is truth
To be gleaned from 
Words I put in motion.
And I don't want anyone
Living their entire lives
Never knowing the truth
About the things that matter
Most. It may not always
Be obvious in what I say
Or how I say it. But it's there –
An ever-present vein
That ties it all together.
Read between the lines
And see the layer
Beneath the surface.
Truth in small quantities
Is still truth, regardless.

Time is never on your side
Tomorrow isn't guaranteed.
You may think your plans are set
But you might never, ever leave.
You are never in control
Even though you'd like to be
Don't consider this a sentence
It's letting go that makes you free.

Under a cloud
Of doubt
And despair
Of guilt
And fear
Of shame
And pain.
But hold on!
It gets better
Once it rains.

Vehemently opposed
To saving grace
He trudges through life
Denying the existence
Of his Creator
Loudly outspoken
In his conviction
That this is all there is.
At the end of his life
He's shocked to find
That there was more
And he missed it.

What you don't know
You don't need to know
The questions you have
In the scheme of things
Don't matter all that much
Are you that eager to meet
The God who made you
Face to face, just to ask
What happened to dinosaurs?
Where's the Garden of Eden?
Who wrote the book of Hebrews?
Once you're able to find the answers
You won't even care anymore.
All that will matter is that you're there
And He is, and that forever has begun.

"X" tattooed on his wrist
Or is it a cross? Let's say it is.
Is it a symbol of his redemption?
A constant reminder of nails
Driven through HIS wrists?
Does its presence tell others
WHOSE he is, or is it just a fad?
Does it mean anything?
Does it affect the way he lives?
Does he forget it's even there
And live by his own standards
While defying and denying HIS?
Interesting question.

You only live once
But if you're born twice
Your one life never ends.
Even if you're never born again
You'll never die again.
The difference is, you'll spend
The rest of your life (after life)
Tormented, desolate, wishing
You'd died to self, and been raised
To new life with Him. Too late
You'll realize that forever
Is only paradise if you spend it
There. Here is only heartache.
It's your life. Choose wisely.

Zoning out, dreaming of the day
When there will be no pain
No tears, no sorrow, no death
For those who are found in Him.
(Unreality compared to what we know now)
When the supernatural becomes
The norm, and we are glorified
In body and soul, what once seemed
Impossible will have been revealed.
And we will dwell with Him
Who makes all things possible
And ever
And ever
And ever
And ever...

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