and here i rest

I decided to start a photo-journal this week. It is called, appropriately enough, Art is for the birds.

Who knows, I might actually keep it updated from time to time. We'll see.

In other news, I wrote this poem last month. Its about spring. I got to read it this morning for a chapel at my school, which was a great blessing. Take care.

rainfall

longing is the essence of noticing
something beautiful,
and wrestling with never staying the same.

here in an apartment of a friend:
3 potted plants on a window sill,
a green apple on a low cut brown table,
the sun reflecting shadows of a weeping vine on the wall,
distorted figures like a forgotten sense of faith,
a lack of trust in the senses when it comes to
something beautiful; love offered freely like water in a rainfall.

we hang around like second hand couches with covers,
listening to cars and typing keys,
like soundless pianos.
and with our hearts we long for a symphony,
and ode to belonging on a quiet afternoon,
something we have not prepared our hearts for.
We never say thank you unless life is good,
And we never say “save me” when life is fine

and I have felt it,
that pain of being slightly human.
It stays with me like an afterthought.
I should learn to say what I really mean.
or learn to mean something less confusing.

I feel a lot like saying “save me” too,
That is the problem with being so open;
I don’t feel fine when I lie anymore.
It hurts a lot being this transparent.

And all I have wanted to know is that I'm beautiful.
I can’t live without love, in the end.