In a desolate place I came upon a familiar room with long walls that was vacant of anything tangible
Words were splattered in black on the walls as if painted with haste and an unsettling venting desire
In the distance the voice of reason cried out while white noise masked every contemplation
The thickness of fog in the air cleared a path to the door waiting to be shut, and nothing more
One hand lay across my breast feeling the thunderous pounding of my heart as I locked the door
I tilted my head back to open my mouth like a cave and slip in the key to rest with the slumbering dragon
Impassivity is detaching me from myself and I need God’s key in order to cease annihilation

You woke me from my sleep
My physical sleep and the sleep that sailed me away from you

There are illusions blocking my view from every corner
I allow them to animate my eyes into enchantment
My will chooses these palpable and available things
It’s no wonder the void expands when I am stuck here

I’ve been in deep sleep, God
What was I without you but blind in soul
Awaken me with your delectable love
I lack the taste of a fruitful life

“My fruit is better than fine gold;
what I yield surpasses choice silver”
(Proverbs 8:19)

You woke me from my sleep
My physical sleep and the sleep that sailed me away from you

There are illusions blocking my view from every corner
I allow them to animate my eyes into enchantment
My will chooses these palpable and available things
It’s no wonder the void expands when I am stuck here

I’ve been in deep sleep, God
What was I without you but blind in soul
Awaken me with your delectable love
I lack the taste of a fruitful life

“My fruit is better than fine gold;
what I yield surpasses choice silver”
(Proverbs 8:19)

As winter marches forward the sky appears a little grayer
Beneath my shoes leaves are crunching in unison like a choir
The scent of those withered leaves lifts off into the air
Warmth is being reciprocated during a cold time of year
The sweet taste of something new has come to me
Blessed be the One who blesses

What have I to say about myself is that I am a huge circle in need of filling
A crayon the size of the galaxy is what I need to fill the empty white with color
So what, I have eyes to look at you and a mouth to speak but I am still a shape
Something like a drawing that has been sitting for years incomplete
I am made up of lines and I am in need of being drawn and erased for the better
My crayons are too small, my pencils and erasers are too small
Any attempt of coloring myself is useless because I am colorblind
I am a shape, a circle that is so poor and needy

It was simpler when her window to the world was young and naive
like a blindfold comfortably wrapped around her eyes
Little knowing of the worth connected to her surroundings and herself
Preoccupied with individualistic style and hallway crushes
The complications that came were, in retrospect, exaggerated
At fifteen light poured into her eyes as she felt God for the first time
A new window to the world along with curtains when necessary or convenient
At eighteen her world did spin and spiral downward
Throughout her stumbling choices it became clearer to see grace
She is older now, wiser, less ignorant,
but still learning how to be the branch connected to the vine

Touch me, light, in golden strips
like lengths of many roads with destinations.
Take me down where swamps are avoided,
weeds never sprout to choke,
rocks don’t await to cut my fragile skin.
I know this walk is more than what I see.
You are more than I give you credit for.
Replace my stone garden heart with flowers.
Make paths with their petals to lead me rightfully.
Restore youth to my belief,
and breath where I feel I’m dying.

These surroundings are driving faster than me
They tug harshly from all sides
They take away the only breath I’ve got left
We’re trying so hard to slow down our pace
yet are still drowned by the pulse of an anxious life
The first thing we do is bury our heads in the ground
Crawl into some space where we cannot be found
Call the sheep to you, God
They will recognize Your voice

From however old you are now until you are elderly, there will be a myriad of experiences that will shape you as a person, and this I find beautiful. This poem is written from a woman’s perspective on her life, but there are things that guys could take away from it, too.

She dipped her finger in the chocolate frosting
Sucked every finger dry of sugar
Her eyes stayed fixed on the melting candles
The fire setting her brown eyes ablaze
She counted all ten fingers several times
As she did the math, she smiled delicately

As a youth she succeeded in her studies
Her career became stable and satisfying
It was long ago that he proposed
Children were born to them
They’ve long left for careers and families

Her fingers trace bags underneath her eyes
She still recalls vibrant parties
All the laughter, and all the weeping
She sat in court rooms of personal trials
Overcoming and losing terribly

It’s all getting simpler
The light in her mind is dimming,
but she’s glad to see another year of candles
Another year of chocolate cake
Dipping her finger in
Recalling everything

Take the label off that is pinned onto your shirt,
And wash off the smile you drew on

Sit on the dirt you came from with everyone else
Sin doesn’t get placed on balance scales by God
One and all are the same

There are no requirements of morality, lifestyle, disposition, etc,
For God to come into a person’s heart and dwell in it
I’m afraid many are led to believe otherwise

I’ve walked within and past plastic people
I hope they’ll someday become flesh