a critique

Something I learned from this past week, and from the summer in general, is that we have to get broken before we can get fixed.

For a long time I've had a problem with "Big Revival" meetings in Christian circles, mainly because of the simple truth that every great high is followed by a huge low. The term Revival has become synonymous with extravagant expressions of happiness and well-being. The focus is on receiving, getting something from God.

But, how can we really begin to re-build our lives with such an approach?

I don't think revivals are supposed to be about displays of emotion. Rather, a revival, for me at least, is about breaking down and then being put back together again. When this happens, we realize what is really important in life- not trying to get by pretending everything is ok, or trying to end all life's problems as quickly as possible.

We find God in the 'sacred ordinary'- in the small insignificant details of life that we overlook- not so much in the constant search for the next big thing to come along and complete us (a new car, thousands of dollars, a boyfriend/girlfriend, whatever).

I'm still trying to figure this out myself. I just think, why wait for the next emotional high to feel complete? Is there anything I can find today that expresses something true and real about my life?

~

And, on a similar note, one of the things I'm trying to learn in life is being able to forgive myself. After awhile I just got sick of feeling like garbage because of every stupid thing I do. I know there are a lot of self-help books that push this destructive idea that one can only be happy if one is perfect, all the time.

Sometimes we have to allow ourselves enough grace to just be imperfect. It is not my great skills or abilities that make me a good person, but rather learning to grow in, and love my, imperfections.

Life may just be a little more forgiving that way.

Take care.

keeping to myself a bit too much

I've figured out, in my five or so years as a youth worker, that the requirements of a youth pastor are:

1) A Stack of CD's from the 90s (think Matchbox 20, or Audio Adrenaline).
2) A Goatee
3) A really hot wife (my theory on youth pastors having attractive wives is that youth pastors have really strong character, and that is what girls like).
4) Blue T-shirts
5) A wealth of random stories which may or may not be transated into bad puns and / or catchy illustrations.
6) A copy of "Velvet Elvis" by Rob Bell.

This is what I think.

It's been a long week so far. I'm doing a leadership training camp at my school, which keeps me to busy to deal with all the hundreds of details that come up in late August (bills, tuition, crushes, prospects. I'm such a guy).

In other news, I'm still trying to reconcile dealing with depression (not in a "poor me, I have depression" way, but in a "I experienced tough things, now I'm doing the mature thing and dealing with them because I have a lot of good to offer" way).

Remind me to elaborate on this subject later. There is much more to say, all of which is hard to capture with unspoken words (aka, words typed).

Later.

I think way too much

Summer is a very erratic time in life, in terms of keeping ourselves together and knowing exactly where we stand. Summertime seems more like a rush of enjoying whatever life we can, then stopping to think about how we were changing later on.

It sounds wise, but this is really more of a question for me than a statement, acknowledging some kind of arrival. I'm just about ready for summer to be over.

So, this is what I have been upto in the last while:

1) Driving down to the Oregon coast for a couple days. I definitely did not see enough of it.
2) Picking up the new Relient K EP, and more copies of books that were written for the sake of giving away (Blue like Jazz, and Captivating).
3) Sitting in my office for hours.
4) Writing a book. Kind of.
5) Not paying bills.
6) Missing writing. A lot.
7) Planning an outdoor concert for september.

I'm really looking forward to relaxing this weekend, cleaning up and curling up on the couch with a warm blanket to watch 'Dan in Real Life' over a pot of green tea... Although, realistically, I seem to enjoy the idea of moments like these instead of the moments themselves (Grrr. bittersweet irony).

I'm also looking forward to seeing radiohead, in the next couple weeks.

As far as I go, I've been feeling a bit hurt. Maybe it has something to do with me not going home to Nanaimo this summer, or with the fact that I'm giving a talk to my church next month about hurt, introduced with the statement "You won't really find healing unless you admit you are broken" (by you I mean 'I'). I'm sure it has everything to do with being apart from friends too, which is something life demands as a necessity every so often.

How is your summer going, by the way?

Later.

in the office, by the phone

"We are becoming a people accustomed to ugliness. Most people most of the time have strong feelings about beauty, order, and harmony, and at some level are wounded by their absence"

- David Orr, Geez Magazine, Summer 2006.

~

Watching: Paris, je' taime (ah. this movie is like poetry. watch it soon).

sunny days

Sometimes I think the best way to experience God is to go through something difficult.

PS- It is a really warm day here in Canada.

in the morning, in the window

photography

Vibrant
bluish, atmpospheric.
I can't
be less than real.

Vibrato,
pitch, consonance.
I tried
to be much better.

Photographs,
traveled, expectation.
Everything
depends on weathering.

Authentic,
eloquent, atmospheric,
whether or not we capture that
which is beautiful.

hope somehow

Some news.

I started compiling some poems yesterday for a new book project, which I hope to have done by the end of this year. I have realized that I have some really down, sad, poems. My theory for this so far have been that I only write poems when I am sad, to express.

Which leaves me with a lot of questions, about creativity. To what extent can we, who write, allow ourselves to be creative? Is being down the only emotion we can express?

In reality I am a pretty fun, hopeful, person (when I am not in some coffee-induced state). So, my challenge is being able to express hope in the stuff I write... writing that is able to say "it is tough, but I'm getting somewhere" instead of always say "bah, I am lost and miserable and sad all the time... bah".

I owe it to myself to start writing about hope, because that is the real me. The real me is not just down all the time.

How about some feedback? How do you, who reads this, think about writing?

I'll continue this thought in the next couple weeks, here in my office of fun.

See you later.

on rock and the fine art of listening.

Currently, I am in the process of taking pictures of all the funny stuff around my office, and all the artsy stuff around my house that is hard to realize apart from feeling artistically inspired to notice (whew. trying saying that five times fast). I will finally update my photojournal this week, I promise.

I'm also in the process of disliking myself because I spend too much money. I do so because a lot of my life depends on being artistically inspired, and this involves the purchasing of spectacular films and music- such as Darjeeling Limited, Xavier Rudd's White Moth album, and Waking Ned Devine, none of which I could find on sale yesterday.

In reality, all I bought this weekend was a fantastic book called "Jamie at Home". Its a book about a chef who grows food in his backyard and cooks a lot, with a lot of beautiful photography and artwork. Buying this was not a poor choice, necessarily.

To make a long story short, I am not being honest with myself. I feel bad about money because I do not keep myself organized. That is the truth.

In other news, I really like the new Sarah Mclachlan record, but I am too cheap to actually pick it up. The initial concensus regarding the new Death Cab for Cutie album, that my friends and I share, is that it kind of sucks. But I think it is one of those albums you dislike for a long time, then all of a sudden love like crazy- like every album that Wilco and the Arcade Fire have put out. "Narrow Stairs" reminds of of Death Cab's older stuff- more rocky, less overtly artsy... i could be wrong. Please argue with me.

I am still a huge fan of Xavier Rudd, although I can't find his stuff anywhere. And I am loving everything by The Album Leaf right now, but the same problem presents itself. alas.

In other other news, the new Coldplay comes out next month. Really excited to hear this one, I won't lie. Violet Hill, I think, is one of their best songs to date... or to listen to on a date. But I have no idea what that is like.

Case in point: I still have yet to hold hands with a girl, since publishing this entry. Alas alas. One of these days.

I have a lot of music to catch up on. Later.

another day

It was another long day today. And it's starting to feel like yesterday was weeks ago. Thus my current act of posting two days in a row.

I'm feeling really sick today, mainly because I haven't slept well in a week and because I have been thinking non-stop about everything since I started here. Working here feels like a major adjustment, from hard construction work to administrative work. The big question I'm asking myself, well one of them, is "where does youth ministry start"?

I mean, where / when do I start being all the things I read about in youth ministry books? The man of character who disciples students?

I started reading a book today called "Contemplative Youth Ministry". In the first chapter the author says, "The real crisis those of us who seek to share faith with youth is this:

We don't know how to be with our kids.
We don't know how to be with ourselves.
We don't know how to be with God. "

Later on, describing what a contemplative approach is like, we writes, "The yearning to be fully awake and alive, the desire to be attentive to others, the longing to be receptive to God's call in every moment of our lives is the heart of the contemplative tradition." Later he talks about "unrehearsed moments when a deep sense of gratitude falls upon us and we find ourselves without need or want, satisfied and reverent at the mystery of life. "

So, the more I read this the more I feel the need to be alive. I'll be honest, feeling dry and burdened is something I feel most of the time. Sometimes I get so busy, like in the last two days, that I forget to just "be"- to take a second to just be who I am, and to sit with a student and allow them to do the same.

Or, in plain terms, I don't allow myself to stop and be loved. My place in working here is not supposed to be this rush. I am supposed to be taking rest. I am really meant to, as the author describes "take a long loving look at the real... a look, long and lovingly, at what is".

Really, in all the rush I don't know how to just enjoy these moments, to enjoy the comfort of contemplating, about where I stand and where I am going, before getting buried by the rush of life.

I'm still trying to figure this out. I think, it could be as easy as taking care of some unpaid bills and then taking a deep breathe or two. But I think the real challenge is being able to apply any of this to life. To allow myself the time to realize I am loved enough where I am right now. And it definitely is a challenge.

The other question I was asking myself, for the record, was "what is it like to really be humble". I'll have to save that for another day.

More to come.

pizza and better office space

It's been a really long weekend, friends. But it was good.

I spent most of my weekend on a guy's retreat, with some boys from my youth group. We spent 3 days on a small lake near long stretches of ranch land and rolling hills. Driving there it felt like the movie "Open Range".

At night the moon mirrored on the lake perfectly, setting up an atmosphere of loons and frogs, the sound carrying across the surface of the lake. It was really more beautiful than I can describe with prose right now.

Then yesterday I spent the day at a silent retreat place called "The Mark Centre". Me and some young adults read books, talked about life, ate food together, and enjoyed a day of quiet, which is a nice thing to have every so often in the chaos of life.

I had a lot of conversations this week, mostly about the love of God. From what I have read, and heard from a lot of interviews on "The Hour", a lot of people don't like God. Sometimes it feels like the God they are talking about hates them, or else could care less about what they do. The God they talk about, in fact, seems to do more harm than good via the people who call him friend.

I have a problem with this, because I have this image of God as a lot more loving than that... a lot more gracious than all the rules and legalisms that Christians tie to God.

So here is what I came up with in my reflections. There are two basic, essential, truths I have of God. The first is that God likes me, likes me, and nothing I can do will change that. The second is that I am trying. I'm trying to be a good person and figure out life, and that, I think, is all God expects of me.

And this kind of love is really hard for me to accept, because I grew up feeling worthless a lot of the time. In the working world our worth is defined by what we can do. The people with the highest skills get money, success, and value. But a lot people with low social skills- the mentally handicapped, the abused- are deemed worthless.

In light of this, the love God is supposed to have for us is opposite. Essentially, I don't have to do anything to deserve love, and I don't have to carry all the guilt or shame from mistakes I made in the past.

Really, this should free me, us, up to enjoy life. Even if I am feeling broken most days, I want to know that I have love to look forward to everyday. The question "am I loved" should not even come into my mind, as much as the question of "what can I figure out today" should.

One thing I have said in conversation before is that "If life feels easy for me, I'm probably not being honest with myself". To be honest is to know I have a lot of hurt to carry, and having the humbleness to give that up. In the end, I think it is more humble for me to accept that I am loved and cared for, rather than always thinking God's love is only given to those people who are good enough.

I am good enough. Right now. And that is what makes the difference.

In case you are wondering what my "today" is like, today is my first day working in the office, at my first Youth Ministry job ever. The beauty of working here is that things like solitude, praying, reading and meeting with friends is part of my job. So far, I am loving it.

More to come.

PS- please ask me any questions if anything I just said sounds confusing. It's really tough trying to transfer really good conversations into semi- good journal entries sometimes.

Later.

making my way up the west coast

some scattered thoughts, before more traveling

(I really hope this is my last weekend away for the next long while).

creativity scares the hell out of me,
on days like this, the really nice ones,
inside without words
or consequence.

tough love never asked me any questions,
a lot of tough, not a lot of love.
tough love hurt more than anything,
given the days I could take it seriously.

originality doesen't like my living room,
staring blankly from the walls like christmas lights,
taken down nonchalantly,
like christmas itself.
I never like to grow tired of things I love.

I've made more excuses than mistakes,
because forgiveness doesn't come without conditions.
I'm wasting today to
like myself enough.

~

I'm not what I say I am most days,
i could never give myself enough credit.
Grace is that love we never asked for:

I never asked for love because I didn't think I deserved it,
and I'd just as well learn to live alone.
But who I am to ask for anything less
than belonging to something. to someone.

no expression

A lot has happened since last time. Evidently.

Last Wednesday a friend and I went to my favorite resteraunt in Nanaimo - a romantic Mediterranean place built in a house downtown- only to find out it was closed down!!! Which was tough, being that it is the second of my two favorite resteraunts in Nanaimo shut down.

My first was an Italian place called "Milanos" that my mom used to cook for, which is now turned into a British style place. My friend and I were making fun of each other because I'm somewhat Italian and she is somewhat British.

At the Sheree Plett show there was about 4 people that showed up, which actually made the show really good. Halfway through her set I got to do a couple of my poems, like this one, and I was horribly awkward as usual. During the show my friend and I were drawing pictures of trees on a table.

Then, after 4 more days of waiting to see if I had a job, and wandering the streets of Nanaimo and Vancouver, I came home and found out that I have a job! I'm going to be a youth ministry intern from the next 13 weeks, starting Thursday. Thus beginning a new journal experience.

So far the extent of my preparation for this summer has been me buying Larvae snacks - wormy things that you can eat!!! I am a youth worker, after all.

Last night I made a feast, of sorts, in the tradition of "Babette's Feast" and "Big Night". It reminded me a lot of the weddings my Mom and I used to cater, making really good food for young brides and uptight bridesmaids (a stretch for most caterers I have seen).

It is always good trying to get a lot of friends together for a dinner, because it gives me that 2 or 3 hours to just be in the kitchen and cook. It is my way of making up for the fact that I cannot play guitar at all, and the fact that I take myself too seriously sometimes. Especially after traveling alone too much.

So that is where I am. I'm trying to sit down and write something concrete today, and not sit around the house. Though, that is starting to become a paradox, and a contradiction in my life, in many ways. A house is supposed to be a place of safety, of comfort and belonging. Though in western cultures "staying inside the house" has become tied to laziness, arrogance, and a lot of other things that really don't do anyone any good.

I don't understand this. I just know that I need my house to be a place of belonging, because I don't have much else in my life that exists for that sole purpose. And why does a house even exist if not to be a place where we can belong?

So thats my thought of the day. So far, I have nothing to do today, or tomorrow. We'll see.



(I stole this video from Amy, for the record).

everyone around here

A long overdue entry or a long way gone.

I came into Nanaimo today, worn out and weathered from a weeks worth of walking. Just off the ferry- one of the new ones they just built- I kept walking and crashed in a park in downtown nanaimo, under the shade of a tree on a hill near a small beach.

In any case, I am skipping many many details here. So I will try, as caffeinated and awkward and obnoxious as I am right now, to write this story as interesting as possible.

This weekend I went to a "full gospel business men's" retreat in Kelowna,- which is not at all and never will be my style. I was there helping a friend set up worship services. It was actually quite enjoyable. All the men there talked about "the spirit" a lot, and spoke in tongues. I myself just walking around the lake, and talked a lot about being way too human.

I'm not going to find out whether or not I have a job until friday, So I jumped a bus to Kitsalano the next day to visit my friend and, essentially, run away from the constant sense of dread that comes with waiting.

A good 30 percent of my life, I have concluded, is spent waiting for something to happen.

At my friends house in Kits I tried to walk to the beach but I got lost, and walking an hour in the wrong direction. Eventually I found Kits beach, had two slices of pizza, wrote poems at a coffee house called "bean around the world" and watched the sun set into a wave of clouds and mountains, in several colors across a clear sky. Epic.

The next day... well, today, I took off from my friends house to Granville to find a bus to the ferries, and got lost again... then walked a half hour in the wrong direction, again, and missed my ferry.

Eventually, I came into Nanaimo, and therein my story comes full circle. In Nanaimo I tried to find some pizza downtown, to no avail. So I found a small bakery and ate three croissants. Then I visited a coffee place that sells "salt spring island" coffee, and then met up with a friend of mine.

After said coffee we drove to another coffeehouse I like called the buzz, and I had some tea and talked way too much because I was way too wired and worn down from travel.

What I'm finding out, since coming home, is that things that are commonplace in Vancouver- such as cheap pizza, concerts, art, and coffeehouses- are awkward here, for the most part.

Thus, I am on another random awkward journey, trying to escape my problems, as is the reason that many of mankind's greatest journeys have been taken.

In any case... I need to stop talking. I am really getting sick of the sound of my own voice. The next entry will a lot more relaxed. I will have simpler, more concise, stories to tell.

The alternative to this long and annoying blog entry, if you have chosen to skim my work up until this point, is the following summary list of things I have done in the past 6 days:

1) Attended men's retreat, with a bunch of pentecostal men.
2) Got lost in Kistalano Beach
3) Had pizza and coffee overlooking the ocean
4) Got lost in Granville
5) Fell asleep under a tree listening to Kid A in Nanaimo
6) Had coffee in Downtown Nanaimo.
7) Had tea in the North end of Nanaimo
8) Disliked myself for running away from my problems, and writing this effing long journal.

9) watched Bridget Jones 2.
10) Took a deep breathe, and went to bed.

Notes to self: Drink juice instead of tea. Write shorter entries. Stop making excuses. Sleep for more than 3 hours. purchase a german beer.

More, or less, to come.

once again

I might be going home this weekend, after going on a man's retreat (which is completely outside of my character... an entire weekend without girls is too long!), one of the reasons being that Sheree Plett, an artist I like to support, is playing in Nanaimo on Wednesday.

In any case, this, like much of my life, is very up in the air. I really am starting to get tired of this "about to go traveling" feeling. bah.

Here is a video I found that I really like. See you later.

some home

on expectations and my failing approach to relationships.

keep me in good company.
I need somewhere to call home.

every line I write falls captive to the wind.

~

I can't remember what I had to say,
to get this off my shoulders,
to do better at self-confidence.
It seems the hurting are the most outspoken.

whatever hurting means.

maybe I was way too hard on myself,
maybe we all are, in many ways.
and I have fallen under my own judgement.
my heart is wrecked with the things I say.

~

keep me in good company,
I need somewhere to rest my weary heart,

I can't keep up
the unfolding act of keeping my composure.

I expect too much of mountain peaks,
of sunny days that were supposed to last longer.
and belonging that was supposed to come through
for days like this.

I was good for a second there,
I still long for more than just 3 good days a year.

~


I'm making this up as a go along.
being my own mentor and father figure.
If only self-confidence was somewhat easier to do alone.
and I go at it as bravely as I can.

when did this house get so sarcastic,
and when did I get so bad at being cautious?

~

I was good for a second there.
It seems I only scare away those I care for.
I should just pack it in and go back home.

I don't want to wait until life feels good enough again,
I can't live up to a word I say.


~

In any case, my life is in a bit of transition this week. My roommate is slowly making his way out, and a new one is making his way in. I'm trying to keep myself together in the mess of organizing a years worth of life.

My exams finished last week and so I spent some time reflecting on being a leader this last year (a painful, fulfilling, experience) and looking forward to being even more of a leader next year.

Spring is lazily making its way in this year, preceeded by snow and cold wind. My friend gave me a pipe last week, so I am smoking more than usual ("usual" being never, really).

In any case, this is how my journal is unfolding. I feel super vague, and I'm having a hard time. If you want to ask me about any of this you know where to find me / e-mail me.

more than alive

Today is a pretty slow day. It was raining this morning so I stayed in and watched "Chocolat". I have a bit of a craving for Bridget Jones. The movie, not Bridget herself... although.

School is almost done, in 2 weeks or so. I'm trying to tie up all the loose ends before summer - i.e. who I like, what bills I need to pay, what music I need to listen to.

I find it is really hard to keep things organized in a set plan. Sometimes the details of life get mixed together, so all I have left is a big mess of priorities, all of which I have to unpack and decide which are the more important to keep (and which are disposable). The to do list gets too complicated to follow through with, leaving me in an overwhelmed state.

Am I just sounding crazy here? To me this is what being a 23 year old / a college student feels like. It is the daily mess of making mistakes and learning from those mistakes, as opposed to having everything neatly laid out for me. The basic thought is that no-one taught me much about adult life- finances, time management, taxes. I'm making this up as I go along.

Maybe it is just as well. I think there are things in this life that have to be experienced in order to be learned, things you won't understand until you yourself have felt them - pain, love, rain, quiet nights under stars. It's basically like something out of a calming movie, or a book of reflective prose.

Though that is not to say I'm fine learning this alone. I do still feel the dire need for a mentor in my life to help me answer those questions, deal with the shit, that I am hard pressed to answer.

yeeeah. so thats that. deep breath. I need to avoid having so much tea. it gets me thinking too much.

later.

- Adam

currently listening to: Hayden (link conveniently located to your right).

bind my wandering heart to thee

older thoughts regarding home

The paradox of home is that it changes.
A house stops feeling like home. You won't find wisdom unless you leave.
Sometimes travel turns to the mercy of arms holding you,
travel turns into something more than running away.

its not in beautiful spaces I made, or the pine tree mistletoe.
I should have spent an evening listening, tasting, relaxing.
4 years later and this is all I have;
solitude without love is just being alone,
nothing wrecks solitude more than seeing people,
and nothing hurts more than the weight of words unsaid.

these snowy nights ask me to stay awhile.
I say can't. And I don't have a reason.

~
Some complicated thoughts:

So, I'm going to live in this place for the next year or so, wheras one of my roommates will not. Thus, I am starting to find that, as I explained in a recent assingment, "if you share a room with a person you are having a conflict with, it can seem like you are sharing a room with the conflict itself".

I have been losing a lot of sleep because there is an excess of unresolved conflict in this place I am supposed to call "home". And I really don't have anything except this apartment to "go home to". I am frustrated this time of year because of this. The idea that change hurts, I believe, starts to become more real in the twenties.

It has been a difficult couple of weeks. A lot of this comes out of hours of trying to clean my house and relax.

In terms of finding a sense of home in my house, I'm almost there.

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.

the colder side of land and sea

Josiah Leming, One last song
The ship was sinking; we were drinking, singing one last song,
Casting our gold into the ocean.
You grabbed a bucket, started screaming, "Come on, come on",
Trying to slow the downward motion.
Back in the kingdom, we were kings and queens and Oh, so strong
That God himself could not contain us.
We never thought we'd be the shorter half of sword and gun.
Now god himself could never save us.

Waves of silver, waves of gold
Are coming now to take me,
To separate my body from my soul
And Jesus leaves or takes me.
Hopes of heaven, fears of hell
Tell me, what's the chance I'll make it.
All my other plans have failed,
And all this time I've faked it.

We started sinking, drinking water from the open sea
Losing our bodies to the ocean.
You grabbed my hand and started screaming, "rescue me"
Together fight the downward motion.
Back in the kingdom we were kings and queens and Oh, so strong
That god himself just had to show us.
We never thought we'd see the colder side of land and sea
But he's the only one who knows us.

I hide in my bed with the lights on the floor

I thought, since I finished a paper this morning, that I would sit around reading small portions of books online. I came across a story called "Ella Enchanted".... and I am in love! I now remember why children's books are so full of heart.

There is, indeed, a huge difference between being "childish" and "child-like". Being Child-Like allows you to find out something you didn't notice before.Like how fun sitting under a ray of sun next to couch can be.

the difference between fantasy and imagination- fantasy being the lesser of the two

a night
another fairy tale.
wash me in your
open arms.
lost. lost in
bridges, crossing
to the castle.

princess,
take my hand like
imagination.
another timeless night.
the air is
only moving verse.
green and soil,
gods and creatures of a
smaller narrative.

a night,
an amour of
enchanting parchment,
a paper dress.
paper covers, quiet skimming.
calm aroma,
new white pages.
the good stories are those that
open our arms.

-those that make the
same world more captivating.
those that brings us more
into life,
rather than escape.

PS- I think for Lent I'm going to give up typing out my thoughts online. ie- here, and FACEBOOK. I think that my habit of putting thoughts online has become less "every once and awhile when I have something good to say" to "all the time because I feel like it".

Alas. facebook is a lame place to leave poems lying around.

See you.