When the time comes to sit down and type, I often wonder: "what am I to write?" However, in my states of confusion or my daily-drift into periods of flatlined intent, I find the answer but never get it down in time.

As a creative mind speaks, so the swans flock to the park.

And then the time comes when words are to be transcribed, yet there are no pens and not even chalk scraps to write on sidewalks or nails to carve into our skin. Chances fleet like the California sun's warmth in late afternoon, and we're powerless but within our control. As the opportunities for quandary arise, so do the persistant-glooms appear giving us nothing but bounties of limitless produce.

Factories are torn down and orchards take their place. Foundries by rivers and cheers by gasps.

Perhaps it's a case of; I saw her first.

"No. It's nothing like that."


And then the time comes when all logic is thrown out the window, resorting not from what we've learned to be truth but embracing the darkness of what we try to deny.

How do I ask forgiveness for something that's given me precisely what I wanted. With the contact of a friend-lost and now found, I desire nothing more than forgiveness, thanking God at the same time.

Time lost is nothing, as empty spaces are slowly filled with submerging and thorough peace-expelled graces. Contradictions in experience, but more importantly; people, yield truth from what we try to dispel as the incongruences of others; heightened understanding of the faults we deny in ourselves.

Yet, frightful means expel truth at every turn in our lives. For it's within suffering that we become better versions of ourselves, and find peace, hope, and joy - assuming we're not complacently ignorant through denial.

Through this peace not-lost and the redemptive nature of forgiveness, I'll ask for nothing more. And, pay mind to asking for nothing more than a greater ability for thankfulness, for this truly miraculous gift.


Is it possible to de-shroud yourself from dread and darkness spilled?

"I don't want to know you...please let me be."

Eternal words, coupled with broken handshakes - banned of ill-assumptions and drunken-facade.

"This is boring...leave me alone."

It's a shame, faults ever-masking. Clenching fists make limp arms fall - when will it end? I pleased a million nights dark in humility and suffering of days.

"No one is better than another, but I don't want to know you."

The backspace opens journey to further nights of wandering.

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