Artifacts of a Life Once Lived

Love is a strange condition. It is your friend or it is your foe. Have you ever wanted to devote your soul's energy to the life and well-being of another human only to find your intentions are not welcomed? Truly, let me tell you that's a very difficult concept to grasp. But I have Christ. Christ, who suffered and was tested in all points as is common to mankind. Can it even be said that the rejection he experienced can compare to the rejection we feel in life? I assure you, it cannot. We look to Christ, a bruised and beaten Lord, a rejected and scorned King, a hated and mocked God, we turn to him and cry, "Lord, hear the hurting plea of my heart." I think it was C.S. Lewis who said something like, "Nothing that you have not given away will ever be really yours." I had a brief discussion about love and electricity. Though trite, we agreed - pouring your heart into someone is like electricity. You either get burned or you get light. It's true, if you neve

IF I WERE A SOUTH PARK CHARACTER

The world destroys itself, and I am fading, far away, until silence falls upon a familiar absence of belonging. For shreds and pieces I give my heart away. Long days give way to longer nights. Breath escapes my struggling lungs. As young hearts mend and stay I am fading away. The sight of hope dances on the moonlit horizon, Yet degeneration clouds my mind. To whom do the sparrows fly? So as it is unknown, my heart cries alone. As powerful as the promise of rebirth a longing for the grave, smirking and chiding it mocks. An emptiness as deep as the sky crashes on my soul boasting that worth is never to be found. A few days ago I picked up an old journal/composition notebook, one in which I have not written for some time now. This poem (excepting a few changes), if it can even be called a poem, was the first entry on the first page. I was rather intrigued at the intensity to which these words and phrases reached. As I sat there reading, I wondered at what it meant and how I had come to wr