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| august 2011 |
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| Another Break | 8:44am tuesday, 30th august |
Hey, folks. I’m going to take the month of September off from this blog. Very busy in the real life, and addicted to information. Will have updates on what’s been going on when I return. Which will be in no time, really. Months are just flying by...
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| Secrecy | 12:44am monday, 29th august |
There are things you will never know about me, things that I do not reveal. It is not that they are so mysterious or evil; some are everyday things, but there will always be certain elements, I think, that the most open man never shares even with his confessor. I believe there are always things that stay between a man and his creator (who is everywhere anyway, so no point in trying to hide things there), and no amount of coaxing (except perhaps literal torture) will bring them out. They are embarrassing things, or things that do not fit in any conversation, polite or intimate — they are things not that we hide them, but no one ever thinks to ask, and we would turn perhaps a red face should the question ever come up. These mundane secrets: I write about them only to remind us that they are present in everyone; but I know that that would not help the matter any if they were for any reason shown in the public light, for we keep some things only to ourselves, that none should trespass so deeply, and our own stays solely our own.
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| My Problem | 4:27am thursday, 25th august |
I decided to make my own version of the Futurama Fry meme: 
I don’t know what it’s like for anyone else out there, but this is a problem I seem to have over and over. I usually find it’s the latter. (But sometimes...)
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| promise | 4:39am sunday, 21st august |
we sing of the dream
that forgotten voices sounded in the darkness
until the dawn carried the tune into light
we had no wind to drive us
our vision was overcast by the harshest shadow
but we traveled by the power of our own wills
to engage the storm
the sky ripped open to expose the electricity
as dragons of rain thrashed in watery chaos
until we breathed free
finding the candle we lit the night before still lit
when we did not surrender one single promise
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| Faith | 4:20am wednesday, 17th august |
There was a light, but it faded. It was not faith.
There were visions, but they twisted. They were not faith.
There was a feeling, but it was illusory. It was not faith.
Faith was to hold on, when all those things went wrong.
Because I saw that light, had those visions, felt what I felt.
The narrow way is a journey, and rest may only be momentary.
It is a life that leads to life.
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| Zachary Odette, RIP | 12:37am saturday, 13th august |
Found out that Zachary Odette died, on July 31. One of his friends left a comment elsewhere on this blog, and I did a search for his name and got a link to his obituary. It didn’t say how he died, and I was just wondering, I suppose, in what way he went. I suppose that could be a morbid fascination about the whole thing. I was dazed after finding out. He was only 26. I kept visiting the address of his old website, and that hasn’t been around for months. Just kept going there, from when his hosting account was suspended till now, and I suppose I’ll stop now, knowing that it will never be up again. Never met him personally, never heard his voice. Just from pictures of him and his dogs did I know him. And reading his humor on that website of his. He was so young. How did it happen? I don’t suppose I knew him well enough to ever find out. Wow, sad. I hope Jesus gives him a high five in Heaven.
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| The Light | 8:31am tuesday, 9th august |
I thought I saw a light shining on me, as if it were just on my shoulder. It was golden, like sunlight, and it did not disappear as soon as I checked the corner of my eye, but like it peeked in from some beyond, and I perceived the crack in my mind’s eye where it came in. Like the God who is light decided to let me know He was watching me, perched on my shoulder, seeing what I was up to. After all, even the hairs on our head are numbered, so why wouldn’t He be there, every dull moment, in our most routine routines, guiding us without our knowing — at least, most of the time not to see He is there. And then in rare instances, just like that, to say hello, without a word. Not to be forgotten when He leaves. Because He never really does.
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| The Stranger | 1:20am saturday, 6th august |
I feel sometimes that I am a stranger to this world. I have become something like an alien plopped down to where I sit, having no idea from where I am from nor how I got here. I look out with my eyes and think to myself that, no, this is not how the world looks to those else whom I view on this earth. I do not understand, at least not fully, how everyone else sees things in their philosophies; I wonder if I have ever looked at things like they did, do not remember if everything was at some point like the normal understanding of objects, actions, and causes most take for granted in their walks through this life. What is this world that is before me, now? What has it become, this day and this night?
Has my past madness taken me that far away? Will it ever be like the times that I recall not, now, like it was before the episodes of Heaven and Hell impinged upon my psyche? I think not that I can escape them even in sleep, for my dreams are strange, too. No, no escape. I am stuck with these strange pictures of the world that concoct themselves in my imagining of the things around me.
Perhaps, though, it is like a second chance, if I think of it: the world is like new to me, at least at some times; even well-traveled understandings at times fascinate me like I have never been there before. Hm. I am a strange child, having a history as far back as I do, but yes, I do feel otherwhiles like a child. Yes, then: let me get lost a little in the marvel of it all. If it is to be like this, then let me see things as if I were newly born, and understand them how I will — it might just be wonderful.
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| The Kiss | 2:24am tuesday, 2nd august |
There at my fingertips
danced the magic of a world;
there at my feet swam the rivers
that flowed through galaxies;
there, there at eye level
an angel prince who whispered
eldritch things, my secret name.
I remember the trees
all spoke in their arcane tree intonations,
that sung from bark to bark
the eons of withstanding;
I remember the mountains
that a lifetime could not climb,
whose peaks reached into the third heaven;
I remember, I remember rain
that fell through seven atmospheres
and carried the scent of the uppermost sky
down into the valleys of mist.
And if I think correctly,
all of it together, freely given me
for a thousand years, could not equal
the secret in your kiss:
there, where the real meets the dream,
through the infinite looking glass;
I remember as if it happened just now,
and as if it never happened:
all the magic in the world,
I could taste their every inkling.
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