Fretless

Every time I leave, I have this feeling-
Hopefully.
Hopefully I make it home alive.
Hopefully I don't.
Just grin and bury it
Under years of practice at being content.
Because no one wants to know what you're really feeling,
Especially you.

When I arrive, I have a feeling that I'll be cured.
And all my outrageous expectations will be infinitely exceeded.
And the only thing I'll be feeling is loved.
Because love isn't a feeling.
God is love.
And when we love, He manifests himself in our life.
So while I'm arriving or leaving or getting lost in between,
I'll rejoice in the fact that my odometer still reads zero.


(1 John 4:16, Ecclesiastes 3:11)


Photo by Josh Thomas @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/abracadaverr/

Had plenty of time


Photo by Josh Thomas @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/abracadaverr/

I do not speak when I am alone
Lest I spoil the sweetness
I relish vacant homes and empty streets
Morning runs when the neighborhood is asleep
Hearing, smelling, and feeling textures
An exquisite dessert of chocolate and cream
Where spoons are optional but always discouraged
Worries cast aside like weekday junk mail
Fly off the balcony as printed paper airplanes
Nobody to impress, nothing to prove
Everyone to forget, all things to wonder
But sometimes you wonder alone by yourself
How much better alone would be
Alone with someone else.


Photo by Josh Thomas @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/abracadaverr/