Gravity

Oh gravity, won't you dance with me?
If you say the word, we'll come down.
Gravity, apple from the tree
With velocity on the crown.

If you think you have lost your mind
And the whole world is spinning round
Look again, see what you may find
Like a red apple on the ground.

Oh waltz with me, dance with gravity
Yes, the whole world is spinning round
Fall with ease, turn around, be free
Like that red apple on the ground.

Gravity oft more kind should be
And nicely avoid the head
For it may be finger, toe, or knee,
When hit won't make you dead.

Picture of Grace

Her hands whisper beauty as her feet take their place

The love of movement holds still on her face

All fear that was there is gone with no trace

She is a picture of grace

The music takes form in her fingers and toes

Like a leaf on a river, it ebbs and it flows

Her form likes to follow wherever it goes

Capturing truth in each pose.

Logic meets love in the glow of the lights

Neither one nor the other feeling contrite

Beauty and truth, for a moment, don't fight

For a moment all things seem right

Her pointe is a pen on the audience's soul
Each punctuation soon takes its toll
Cursively writing emotions in scroll
Noting what it means to be whole

The music ends as tears fill their eyes

Even the very most stoic ones cried

They know with the dancer's bow and goodbye

They are left more alive

To Feel Again

I haven't been able to feel much this past week. My heart was stuffy as if it had a cold. Most people think depression is where you are really sad, or a perpetual debbie-downer.  Depression doesn't work that way.  There are two main kinds of depression. On one hand, you have people who feel more than normal people do.  I have a couple of friends like that. "Happy" for them is euphoria for a "normal" person, and sad is dysphoria. They can't contain, nor control their emotions.  They are caught in a whirlwind and feel like they can't get out of it.  People with this type of depression have an incredible blessing beyond the obvious curses; they have felt emotions that I can't begin to comprehend.  They have tasted heaven, along with the hell.

The other kind of depression is, I feel, the more sinister.  People with this depression feel less.  Do you know how hard it is not to feel?  To want to cry, but can't?  To see a sunset that you know is overwhelmingly beautiful, but remain underwhelmed? To eagerly anticipate free time for a hobby, but find yourself unable to focus...again. To walk next to someone special, to share in a precious moment, yet feel distant. Detached. Dead.  What does a man do if he can't feel?  How can a man cry out to God...if he can't cry at all.

Today I felt again; I laughed the hardest I have in a long time; I cried harder than I have in a long time. God heard my muddled, muffled heart.  He gave me strength of heart to live and love. He kindled joy in my heart that gives me hope. It's a reminder to me that God is in all things sovereign.  He can bring a man down to the depths; He can raise him up to the heavens.  He can give a man depth of heart, and he can take it away.  He is the same God to both, and to both, He is good.  He is the measure by which real and normal take meaning.  I don't know why I go through phases of lifelessness, but I know that in it, God is good, and that somehow my lifelessness will bring life more abundant to either me, or some other of His children.  As much as it cuts me to the core, I delight in the opportunity to be forced to rely on God's strength completely, in heart and mind, when my own falters.  God is good.

Boston

Our hearts hang heavy when somebodies die
Even American flags softly cry
Bowing, half standing, silently weep
While over our country a steady watch keep.

Today I saw a sight I thought I'd never see
Freedom's flag was mourning ever less than me
It stood so proudly with its head raised high
While I hung my head, at full mast did fly.

Oh star spangled banner, how could you forget?
At such a time in hist'ry, how could you just let
Things roll off your back? They're completely devastating 
And you just ignore them by quietly levitating?

I stared up with anger and a tear in my eye
And yet for freedom, it continued to fly
It looked down at me with a well weathered face
And whispered of battles, and songs of God's grace

And just at the moment it stood there and waved
I came to see it's by God we are saved
That even through the horrors of man
We're still part of Heaven's good plan.

Past Return

Past the point of no return
Into possibility
Almost in the realm of sane
But also insanity

What if we just cannot tell
When opportunity has come?
It knocks and we just close the door
Though we listen more than some

What if while waiting for the right
We come to find that we've been wrong?

Care and Create

I was made to care and create
To learn and discern, help and relate
I study while also trying to be there
Present in school, and present to care
Time is an angel, and a demon to be sure
When you most need it, whisks off in a blur

In balance always my life must be
For not for my smarts do men look up to me
Not for riches, beauty, or fame
But that I live life with integrity.

Tuned to Emergency

High on a hill in an elevated cave
Sits a weary man
Sipping a Vanilla Coke
And working on a software plan

He listens to the radio
Tuned to emergency
Music-less he makes his charts
It's not where he wants to be

His health and his utter sanity
Are blurry if you look too fine
That twitch in his eye and the limp in his thigh
Echo his state of mind

Felt loved, felt lonely; cried, didn't die
Finished early, finished late; he even tried.
Both sides of a target ever so wide
But never quite satisfied

He is where he is by a sense of pride
God gave him gifts; that can't be denied
But what if this work makes the weak gifts get fried
And just makes the good ones hide?

Math, science, and objectified C
Matter not much in eternity
What if not smart, but kind he should be
And love and smile and climb trees?

The fridge talks truth
And the code talks beauty
Set your radio tuned
To God's frequency
Live and love
And dance, set free;
Live your life
And do your duty

High on a hill

High on a hill in an ugly fountain
Sits an ugly tree
In mem'ry of a girl that died
Whose name was Emily.

This tree, I said, is quite ugly
If I may be so bold
But the sentiment behind
Is worth its weight in gold.

In absurdity there is
Beauty through and through
Don't laugh; I challenge you to think:
What if it were you?

Our life is like a grave in a fountain
Our faith is dead; can't even move mountains
But we rest on a fountain of love
That pours fourth life from God above

This tree is a monument, testament to all
That God is who gives life
I still shudder; this gravely marker
Marks both joy and strife

Each branch, cone, twig, and needle
Reminds us of the fall
Of life, and death and how on such
A tree God saved us all.

Beacons at Night

Examples and friends, the best you can find
He loves her so dear with his heart, soul, and mind
And she thinks he's perfect; one of a kind
And I say that they're doing fine

Grief visits often, and she has known pain
And sometimes from crying he'll have to refrain
I only have hope they'll live through this rain
And be okay again

The pride on his face would bring you to tears
The joy of their baby her face sweetly mirrors
Love, hope, and faith overshadow all fears
And will continue for years

These three stand out as a beacon at night
Shining God's love like a powerful light
All see their lives in peace and in fight
All see them doing what's right