The Vigilance of Trees.

How do trees feel in the Winter?
Do they miss their leaves that once held on like a force like gravity?
Green as emeralds on a dutchess' throat that then caught fire in reds and golds and set said trees ablaze with the brevity of life, only to fall down dead and brown.
And then the snow and the ice and the Northern wind came and laid their weighty burdens on their naked boughs.
So for three months those trees shivered and shook, remembering their former glory until fragile rays of life touched their heads. Those rays grew in size and strength and melted away the sorrow of winter to reveal rebirth beneath.
Lovely small green shoots of the future had been concealed and the trees gasped a deep breath, realizing that as long as roots of hope stay firm in the ground, life will always return in spring.
Then small jewels of blossoms grew and bedecked the trees with fresh new petals, more lovely than years gone by.
Those blossoms soon change to thick strong leaves that shelter fruit and seed, the legacy of those Giants of Earth.
As it always has been, those seeds fell, and the leaves were set ablaze again by the setting sun of Autumn. The Harvest Moon comes and bestows the kiss of death, and their bright beautiful garments turn brown and fall.
Naked again they wait shivering until spring returns.

The Kindest Constellation.

"Good evening stars!" I say as I lay down on slightly sloping shingles. "How are you?" This of couse is a silly question, seeing as stars are always wonderful. But still they wink their greeting at me, as they have always done. The Great Trident (as I call it) sits right above me, staring down, ready at any moment to strike away my anxiety, worry, or regret. That's nice of him. For a while I lay down, crying, then laughing over this silly life. Then I get up, blow them all a goodbye kiss, and climb back inside.

Cool huh?

Pretentious Criticism.

I spent some time today to read over old blog posts that I wrote like a year and a half ago. Some I still absolutely love (insert proud grin), others now disgust me. Its kinda cool how we change over the years. Heck, its cool how we change over months. Instead of deleting those "silly old posts" I am keeping them as a record of thought, or a timeline of mental/spiritual progression. Who knows though, I may end up deleting it all and starting over. The pretentious part of it all is that I am pretty much writing this all to myself, cause I know no one reads any of this crap.

The Saddest Thing.

I love, love, love sitting around with my greatest friends talking about everything from sex to the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Or, gathering together to make art out of magazine pictures and sharing a box of Franzia. We do homework (yes Mom I do actually do homework), listen to Lauryn Hill, and read poetry. We lay on the roof and look at the stars and the trees. We laugh, we cry, we sing, and we love. But it won't last forever.

Hammock Recollections.

My cares do drop like acorns
from that big Oak Tree
beside the porch.
Sitting on the roof
hearing leaves sing classy jazz
while sunlight pirouettes
on the branches,
my head rests on a pillow of resolve
as the breeze blows
my future ever closer.
I sip wine as pipe smoke
carries my prayer
to heaven.

Glory be.

Amen.

Against The Doctrine of the Wretched Human.

In my life I have been bombarded with two different ideas of humanity. The one of the world that views man is in a way perfect and without need of a god. The constant worship of the individual, the imagination, the power. This is obscenely wrong. There is the opposite view as well, held by many Christians, that man is so filthy, worthless, and undesirable, that our mere existence is a miracle. I find this a little stupid.

There is this ongoing hatred for Adam and Eve for their fall into sin, which has so plagued us since then. I am obliged however to thank God for Adam and Eve, and to be thankful for that sin that gave us need of a redeemer, Jesus Christ. Without sin, we could not be reconciled, and therefore in my opinion, have a working and walking relationship with God. We love him more because we were without him. It is often said that we are unworthy to praise God, but does God find us unworthy? If he did, would we be able to praise him?

Someone stop me if I am spouting heresy: but I really think that if man sucked so bad, Jesus wouldn't have been one. Now don't mistake me here, I know I am not perfect and I never will be, and neither will anyone I know this side of glory. And yes, we are in need of a savior. But God thought we were so vile, would he have sent a savior in the first place?

Ponder that, friends. I want to hear your thoughts.

Mere Scribbles On a Page.

Sitting at the desk, I see clouds dancing on the sky;
They fly right by,
Without a care or a frown.
So I smile at them,
But they don't smile back.
Eyes on the prize they fly.

Tears in my eyes I smile at the sun.
Whether its from brightness or sadness, you or I will never know.
The sun smiles back
Until clouds fly right by.
Oh well. I'm blind anyway.

I sing with the birds for a while
But they keep changing keys.
Dancing on the leaves they sing a song I cannot know,
So I look for a smile from the sun.
But alas, he has gone on to bring joy to someone else.

The moon is here instead
Gently crying back at me.
The clouds only magnify her joy and sorrow.
The stars sing a song, this time I sing along.
Their dance is as old as the sky itself.

The trees clap there knotted hands
To a rhythm they never knew.
They sway in peace and solitude.

Someday I will be no more.
The sun will still smile at the clouds,
The birds will always sing their harmonies,
Dissonant with the rest of humanity;
The moon will shed a tear,
But she won't know that I'm not here.

But I know where I go, I can sing,
I can dance.
I can sit with my Father,
My eternal Father,
As he tells stories to me on his lap.