The Things that we do,
the things that we say,
are ever in a state of constant change,
and life the great teacher,
provides us with influences
of both good and bad,
but the task of deciding which is which,
falls only to us.

Get up off your lazy keister,
face the facts,
Life was never intended to be simple,
in fact at times it seems inevitably overwhelming.
You fell for the delusion,
You fell into the trap,
and now it shall be what stings you the most,
Get up off your lazy keisters,
do the work,
push through the hard times,
and change your world.

A heart ready and willing,
unfortunately denied.
Loving and committing,
simply waiting.

Yes, This heart awaits you;
it is waiting,
despite all heartache and suffering,
and it is waiting.

It watches to this day,
the heartache you each day do face,
and wonders to itself,
“why does something so beautiful,
do this to itself?”

What business has heartache
with such a beautiful soul,
a caring heart,
tell me now,
what business does heartache have?

Please Imagine,
my heart, ready to love you,
sadly made to wait,
made to watch your heartache,
made to watch you suffer,
when what it wants,
is to love you,
with everything its got,
please imagine my heart,
please,
just imagine.

Push me over,
I shall rise higher,
suppress my rights,
I shall bite harder,
lock me in a corner,
I shall become fiercer,
Run away from me,
I shall chase faster,
try to keep me quiet,
I shall shout louder,
hate me more,
I shall love you more.
make me happy,
I shall be happier,
These are truths,
take them away,
I shall believe them more.

Being great at something,
it doesn't make it any easier.
In time perhaps you might
accept it, and acclimatise,
being a good soldier,
it doesn't necessarily make it easier
to shoot your opponents down.

Being great at something,
it doesn't make you immune to pressures.
Nor the mock and ridicule.
There is a lot to consider,
when being great at something.

If I were a painting
hung upon a wall, be I a
painting of flowers, ships or sheep,
it would be of no major concern.
For should my owner have a change
of season, he might remove me
and put another, perhaps more
sought after painting,
I hang on feelings and ratings,
though I am skilfully crafted,
my flaws determine whether
I should rise or fall.

I wandered as a lonely shadow,
no substance, subject to the light,
nothing my own,
Subject to him,
the motions of a sinner,
the hurt inflicted.

No action is mine.

I am a shadow,
I've no hold or being.
It hurts being taken for a long ride.

Months of Joy, and life,
I had been warned time and time again,
yet still I refused to listen,
I came closer to the pits of despair,
than I had dared,
I was motivated, keen on getting what I wanted,
not even noticing the shadows that loomed,
I was ignorant, for I pursued selfish bliss.

My heart was wrong, my mind always was,
given false hope, believed the devils lies,
I did things that in the end resulted in cries
for help. I had not listened,
my faith had waned,
my heart had sunk,
and in pursuit of False hope,
I died inside.

The path was long, arduos, enshrouded
in the darkest mist, with ferocious noises,
I stumbled and fell for ever and ever,
until, I smashed upon the ground with
suddenness and hurt,
It all clicked into place,
finally sense reappeared,
I was in the darkest place,
the devils house,
his door was locked behind me,
Yet it was not too late,
One loud cry,
one ferocious roar,
and he thundered through the door,
and light illuminated all that was there.

Despite what I had heard, all I had feared
Nothing at all was there.

And so began the long journey home,
through the lit up forests,
with Christ as a beacon,
his word as a torch,
my heart as a final bastion,
and I was heading home…
that didn’t make it easy though,
I had to fight,
hard and long,
up the hill,
through the storm and dry,
I was scarred, and wounded
in the soul,
this is my battle,
my painful experience,
Pray this message touch
your soul:
“Dont ignore the warnings,
and beware of the mist.”

Listen, learn, act and obey,
this is what I hadn’t learned
yet upon this day,
I have.

On the hills crest sat an idle oak,
still as can be, without a single leaf,
No noises were heard, no great croak
or bellowing moans, just silent relief.

It must have felt quite isolated,
had it a song, what words it would sing.

How soon you may find yourself
wandering down the road through
tree and wood, and grass and butterfly,
and rays of dripping sunlight,
and fresh air,
tho' expect not that it may carry on forever,
for this road is unexplored before,
many have tried, but it is e'er changing
and soon enough the cooler air,
and the damper ground, and the
air is toxic, and full of ash, and smoke,
caused by deception and lies.
This is life, you are smothered, and
then able to breathe.

Just to think,
that mere months ago,
my days were somewhat duller,
life somewhat meagre,
then...
one marvellous day...
I finally met you,
and things started to bloom,
greys became blues,
whites became brights,
all because I began to fall for you.

Now, If I'm a fool,
if things go awry,
then i'll just have to think,
my life is better because of what
you caused in me,
Love to bloom.

On and on and on,
down the rusted tracks,
screech and screams,
as horns howl in the night,
as we steam down our tracks.
Stations await,
people to collect and carry to
the point where they must go.

On the straights you can race ahead,
on the curved and bent, slow and steady,
I hope to come to the station,
where I lose not one of you my friends,
yet, at every station along my rusted track
I lose someone, and gain another,
but it doesn't negate the pain,
I dont want some to leave my train.

The way things are,
are Ne'er eternally set in slabs
of stone and marble,
for if man wishes,
they might bend and warp
beneath the pressures we
apply.
Ne'er lose hope you young
people, for this is your time,
time to change,
time to reform,
time to knock down,
and rebuild,
be it Love, work,
life itself, ne'er to late.

Do not stand far off,
casting off bad thoughts and
negative critiques,
when two people are gathered
with romance and love,
you wonder as to why?

‘Why is she with him?
why he’s nothing more than
complete nitwit!’
and then you beg the reason
why is he with she?
‘Why she’s neither beautiful,
nor smart!’
without the heart,
to gain the closer look.

Ay, they may not seem
to bright, polite, or beams
of sunlight,
but here we are,
we stand and judge from afar,
without so much a wish
or will, to go and
have a closer look.

They hug and smile,
and you wonder why?
because unlike you, they
look not for just look,
intellect or past,
but instead to the contents
of their hearts.

If ever they should tell my story,
what would they say?
How would they say it?
He lived the common life?
Plain as one could live?

Aye, this seems fair, but I pray
this is not that all my life should be.
I hope it grows to something extravagant,
well and truly before I die.

Storms may rage,
winds may howl,
the night might grow uneasy,
but of this I am certain,
my heart remains steadfast,
my love unchanging,
my dedication,
commitment, decisions and choices,
speak volumes about my heart,
and to no other would
I give my fragile heart.

Even if the days grow limp and cold,
my heart shall remain the same,
deeply, madly, wonderfully
in love with you,
my dear dearest love.

Of all the women I know,
She alone, stands out.
She walks with an air of grace,
Of gentility and kindess.

Days may come, hours may pass,
and still my love of her will never
meet its end. I see her heart,
it draws me nearer each moment.

One could say, I love her,
One could say I'm in awe of her,
I say, To love her is to worship her,
and to pursue her just as the Father
pursues her.

There are some things in life,
Some which are absurd,
some which are misunderstood,
and Some which cause strife.
One such thing falls under all three,
Love.

A man who wants The Girl,
not just any odd Girl,
Pitch a tent, and stock up on provisions,
for you had best be prepared,
to fight the long war for the woman you love.

Of saddened heart was he,
That dreaded day that he was beat,
upon the distant fields of war,
Brave, Brave, Sir Eorand.

Of stout heart,
yet of staggering limp,
Of wholesome mind,
yet of cleaved flesh,
Born to the land
on which his victory eluded.

How he sits ‘neath willowy boughs,
poised in humble reflection,
immersed in Character creating loss,
and still shot forth into Victory.

His reflection upon the waters,
distorted and unclear,
thus reflected the truest form of his heart,
oddly enough.

Kneeling by the abbey’s altar,
Shedding tears,
and of heart he cried.

When the minutes roll by
with all haste and quickened pace
I shall sit idly in my seat as they fly,
my hear resembling the broken Vase,
sitting chipped and broke,
as the music and sound of the night,
befriends my ears and invoke,
the sense of will and might
that I shall rise from my eerie seat
and move and motion change
for this my heart is over being beat,
and so I shall get to building some strange
fort and wall, with sufficient space
to roam and thrive in the hearts fair keep,
and I shall always be prepared incase
the bitterness of the world shall creep
upon me and spring in the night,
I shall truly be at arms, always
willing to show them my might,
and give them that which will amaze
even the stubborn and prideful
that they may feel as well the renewed
strength of my heart.

The words lost upon the
written page, are nothing
near to the tragedy
of words that once spoken,
dissipate and fade into the air.

Have patience with me,
I'm an aged relic, a distant memory,
to catch up takes all I can be,
please, be patient and keep me company.

I want to be with you,
more than what this world could offer,
I would forsake it,
Just for a day with you.