A glimpse into my faith, my dream of writing, and reaching people for Christ through my words.
Reflections-
Are lies,
Are real,
In the same breath,
At the same time.
Glass mirrors-
Show us
What is
Seen by the world,
When we can’t look.
Clear water
Holds still,
Stays cool,
Until the wind,
Until the rain.
Reflections
Show us-
Us.
But what we see
Is only half the story.
The other half is
In pieces.
What others see.
What’s inside.
And finally-
-the Truth.
The lights glow, outlining,
Highlighting, forecasting,
In shades of red, then green.
And yellow, the in between.
Droplets slide down the glass
Some clinging to the door handle,
Others falling, splat, to the pavement
Not able to hold on as life spins away.
Lightning strikes, cracking the earth,
Opening the seams, energy,
Electricity, transferred from the sky
To the ground, and those close by.
Thunder rolls off the clouds, the hills,
Echoing the lost and forgotten hopes, the
Broken and shattered dreams, the chances
Not taken, that have turned to regrets.
She stares up, searching the stars,
But they’re hidden by the storm, out of reach.
She blinks, wondering if it’ll pass,
So she can try again.
Sunrise—the light of a new beginning,
the chance to start again.
Hope breaks through the clouds,
chasing away the dark, the rain.
Flowers—new growth,
showing change can be okay.
Petals reaching, leaves outstretched,
searching for their purpose, their plan.
But the wind will blow,
scattering the leaves, tearing the petals.
The thunder will roar, water will overtake,
hiding the light, stunting the growth.
But time will pass, the breeze will calm.
allowing the clouds and flowers to settle.
The sun brings new light, seeds bring new blooms.
The cycle continues, all the same.
May not have represented hope…
A different angle can change everything.
It can provide a new perspective,
Help gain a fresh understanding.
The purple flowers, from any other side,
Would have just existed.
Would have just been there.
The leaves, if looked at from another direction,
Could have been trampled without a thought,
Could have been bit off by the hungry muzzle nearby.
The sunset, through any other lens,
Might have been missed.
Might not have been appreciated.
The light, if blocked by any thicker foe,
May not have interrupted the shadows.
May not have represented hope.
One Word at a Time 