I Am Not Him

 Lost myself in the midst 

of the mayhem called my mind.

Carried up in a windstorm of word and thought.

"Who am I?" I ask myself,

trying to conjure something existential,

but crisis is what comes up, confusion.

When I couldn't find myself,

the only one left was You.

A name I could claim with clumsy confidence,

but I'll keep Him anonymous.

I stuck with this toy-train of thought, full of conviction.

"I AM!" I declare, "I AM!" 

I am simply sad, sick, and desperate for help.

All I wanted was to be more.

Family

 My strings tethered

tight to a violin

humming a familiar song.

I'm your strings attached

a forget-me-not,

a mousy ear of reason.

You are the violin,

I'm tethered tight to you.

You are familiar.

The Secrets You Will Keep

 My perspective of God is now, so vast,

my narrow mind, a thing of the past.

A singular view

sitting in this pew.

God isn't who I thought

-isn't who I was taught.

Scripture is seeing through the eye of a needle

into the past of Jesus-God and the steeple.

The fundamental secrets I keep

of a God so deep

are not the same

as the creator you claim.

The Almighty of Black and White is plain as day

-every single Sad and Happy shade of Gray.

 

How do I show you what I see

without your judgment passed on me?

Roman Empires

Perspective in a pinch,

what would you see?

The rambling girl,

or the messiah I claimed to be.

Step inside my mind,

while I step outside.

Stories about how I broke-

a divine gesture,

a sacred whisper.

No hints to this secret,

only injury to memory.

The miracle of medicine, 

the pills I swallow save 

and kill me many ways.

What can I do?

How can I cope?

Say goodbye to a clear mind,

and move on.

Everything

I want to make you understand,

to make you question,

to inspire,

to be...

A light in the dark,

a spark,

the illuminated lightbulb above your head.

An idea,

a new beginning,

hope,

logic,

a new way of thinking.

Carefree,

a walk in the park,

a fresh start.

A clean slate,

a new state of mind,

a sight to the blind,

a sound to the deaf.

If only I could be.

Stage Three, Wondering What's To Come?

Frequently I see my life

flicker before my eyes.

I can't seem to find a phase,

a place in the past to call a stage.

I realize, today and yesterday

are the only two stages I've been through in life.

The moment, the present, and the past,

have been both harsh and helpful.

How can I? How could I make myself more clear?

I'm swimming, barely breathing, coming up for air.

I take it in, let it go, take it in, let go of the past,

and at times- everyone in it.

Dead or alive,

I honor the memory of melancholy or peace.

It seems I'm secretly sad

-thinking of what I miss-

forever mourning memories,

acceptable or atrocious.

Trapped in the moment

unable to travel back through time,

or forward to the future.

I Don't Owe The World A Thing

 Hands deep into the fabric of my mindset,

I pick up two pieces and feed them through. 

I sat in front of my machine,

expecting myself to improve the world.

Focused on nothing other than

the threads of time connecting us. 

What time is it?

What day is it?

I don't even know.

Threads, torn.

I keep tossing scraps to the side

and sewing my spirit into everything. 

Slow, I start to unravel. 

My well-being becomes unbound 

scraps of fabric spread across the floor. 

Thinking

-anything the world needs-

I have it.

I Hope So

 Nothing's on my mind,

an existential problem.

I've come to the conclusion,

division is inevitable...

Sad.

Politics appear to worm their way into everything.

How do I explain personal choice, 

a love of self?

Everyone only tries to do what's best

for the love of self, then everyone else.

Understanding humanity is hard for some

-but I understand the love of self.

Being kind to everyone else is problematic for most,

but I find myself caving in to respect.

Instead of being problematic,

I find myself silent.

Robbed of my voice. . .

Speechless at the sounds of so much disrespect,

and how do I cope?

I shut myself out of these four walls,

and watch the real world keep moving. 

The question is, am I moving with it?

Let Us Stop Pretending

 I don't know who God is,

no matter how much I try.

I don't know of heaven or hell,

only earth.

My place is not to judge

a heathen or a believer.

As much as I try to understand what's beyond my reach,

my reach only extends to my fingertips.

Oh, how I'd love to tell you

I know each answer.

I only have opinions on the matter,

many questions of my own.

Some about suffering,

some about emptiness,

many about how to overcome your ailments.

So, I sit and pray for some answers,

but my prayers turn out to be deep sighs for humanity.

So much I can't understand,

I can't find the words to express my gratefulness,

or my hopes for humankind.

I get up off my knees and understand,

everything is out of my control.

I hear everything is in God's hands,

bothersome to believe.

I don't believe God acts this way,

I believe freewill kills His control.

Be Your Own Bounty

 Minuscule miracles

catch our eyes each day,

keep us moving.

No questions,

struggles,

operating order,

and we're happy.

Just getting by,

just drifting,

mini miracles make you.

You shut the door

on a predestined fate,

exceeded expectations.

There's the small matter

of presumptions,

no matter at all.

You weren't born in bounty,

but you earned it.