As long as
the sun warms our skin,
the flakes give it chill,
and the fire scars it,
it is the same.
Faith, Health, and Other Musings
May our minds flourish with creation, and may our hands never deny its expression.
As long as
the sun warms our skin,
the flakes give it chill,
and the fire scars it,
it is the same.
Grace is just a word
until you really
need it,
and
peace is just a sentiment,
until you
don’t have it.
Stress is like ocean water:
you either
harness its energy
to move beyond boundaries
or you
flounder, paralyzed,
beneath its enormity.
We’ve never
just been
beings of
how,
but things
of why.
We’re warned
about the dangers
of the world —
the heat of fire,
the power of water,
the shifting weight of the wind —
but the world
has never,
never,
wounded me
like the dangers
in my heart.
We have known
miracles
and received
a glimpse of God,
for we have
seen a
Mother’s love.
We all
want
love,
purpose,
good food,
and understanding,
yet we
somehow
manufacture
differences
between us.
At any point
we can look
around us
and find
failure, shortcomings,
loss, and dead dreams,
but we should always
look again,
for those
are only stones
scattered
around the flowers
of love, grace,
triumphs, and hope,
and these vibrant
blossoms
are worth admiring.
Social media debates
are ironic in their
nature and consequence;
you think
you are hurling assaults
upon an adversary,
but it is you,
you,
that is slowly
becoming lesser;
online arguments
are a sort
of silent mutiny,
your own mind
pulling itself
further apart
with every
enter.