Closure (For May 26 & 27)

I guess it all started the day you said hi to me. Isn't that how all these funny life experiences start?
I found your lisp more attractive than naught.
Little by little every minuscule spot in my heart was filled up with thoughts and feelings towards and of you.
It was funny how everything played out. In fact, it kind of went down like I imagined a fairy tale would.
I became lost in a strange feeling I couldn't quite describe. Yet, while I was stumbling over words, you knew exactly how you felt.
So you left. I can't say I blame you, either.
But, I have my heart back now, you know.
 -
My hands hover over the keyboard. This is it. This is the last line to the closing letter of this friendship. How can I tell you that I'm thankful for the hurt? How can I tell you I'm stronger now than I've ever been? How can I tell you, you made my happier times happier because of the tears and the heartache?
-

And even though, our "us" didn't work out, I know that what I’ve dreamed of having my entire life, a prince who will make me feel beautiful and special, he’s out there.

I just have to wait.

and I hope, I really really hope, you find your princess.

on love, emotion, and commitment (a double drabble)

LOVE: A strong affection (a moderate feeling or emotion) for another arising out of kinship or personal ties. (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

Would we demote love to this simple definition?

Love is not merely a strong affection; neither does it arise out of kinship or personal ties. For love is death to self (no moderate feeling would promote this) and it reaches far beyond those we will ever meet.

Only in the 4^th definition given by Merriam-Webster do we find something closer to a complete meaning.

LOVE: “an unselfish, loyal benevolent (marked by or disposed to doing good) concern for the good of another.”

This, more or less, is love; concern for another despite personal desires, despite fickle feelings. It is everlasting; it is binding.

But again, it is so much more. It is an emotion that feels fiery passion, but is not driven by this unpredictable force; rather it is driven by the desire for good in another, a desire for hope, and peace for another even at the cost of your own happiness. But even more importantly it is the action upon this drive.

“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13 (ESV)

regarding you {forever and always}

On spring twilights I’d like to go dancing in a parking lot.

On summer evenings I’d like to sit and watch the sunset and hold your hand.

On autumn afternoons I’d like to jump in some crunchy leaf piles with you.

On winter mornings I’d like to cuddle next to you and sip a not-too-hot mocha.

And when the storms come and when the darkness falls I’ll be forever truly yours.

And when the sun shines and when the mist rises, I’ll stand here next to you.

Because in every season, on every day I’d like to be with you.

Means the World

The family (and soon-to-be family) (and maybe-someday family) sat in a circle around the room. After spending the past three days together they were exhausted, but happy. Questions and answers were tossed around the circle, funny stories exchanged, and “remember when’s” laughed over.

The grandparents, sitting next to each other survey their family-daughters, son, daughter-in-law, son-in-laws, granddaughters, soon to be grandson-in-laws- and smile.

The Grandfather speaks up above the other voices and everyone respectfully turns to listen.

“I think I speak for your Grandmother and myself when I say how proud I am, how proud we are, of this family.”

One of Us

Fifty grey soldiers.  Our general in front.  Hundreds of others listening over radio.

“It’s true. We’ve found it.  A place without the faceless. ”

Applause.

 “But eighty men died getting there.  Twice as many will die if we try again. The enemy units must be annihilated… there’s only one way to this effectively.”

Murmurings.

“One of us won’t be coming back.”

Silence.

But someone has to go.

My brother’s dead. I killed him.

My friends have burned.   I watched them.

What’s left for me?

I step forward.

Lift my hand.

Am I certain?

Am I sure?

“I’ll go,” I whisper.

Elusus

Red smoke rises in the East.

Black smoke billows from the West. 

And here are we. Stuck in the middle. In the middle of north, and the middle of south. 

Where the winds meet, smash together. Rebounding away. Away. Away. 

The winds carry the ash.

They carry the stench of death.

Of blood. 

And here are we. 

We are the cause.

We are the cure.

We are the destruction.

We are the rebuilding.

But we do nothing.

Our words echo around us as we sit in a cement room.

Shaking from all we have done.

“The world is ended..” 

Ended. 

The Smith

He toiled long and hard at his craft. He hammered and shaped and worked and reworked. When it wasn’t good enough, he stuffed it back in the fire. He tempered it with time and heat. He fashioned it with blood, sweat, and tears. When it was nearly good enough, he held it up to the light, examined every facet, sought out the flaws, and brought it back to the flame.

See the fruit of his labors. See the working of his mind, his hands, his heart. See the passion and the joy of the wordsmith.

Black lines on white page.