Dead Hawks Don't Fly

Alone in the sky
On silent wings
Looking at the world,
Thinking through things.


A forest spread out
Trees aplenty below
A turn in the sky
The turn silent and slow.


But out rings a shot
The sound rips through the air,
A feeling of falling
A boy's look of despair.


His unwanted prey 
Fell from the sky,
But despite what he did,
Dead hawks don't fly.

Chains

     They say that ignorance is bliss, and knowledge is the key to freedom.  But how true is that?  How free are we?  In ignorance, we are chained by the restrictions that come with it, and a lack of creative means, with no hope of moving forward.  But in knowledge we are also chained by the obligations and responsibilities that present themselves alongside our knowledge.  Can we really be free?  What is the balance of liberation?  To stay in ignorance is to deny oneself a meaningful life, but to forever be in pursuit of knowledge denies the chance of finding any meaning in life.  The only liberation, then, is to admit that one shall never know all that there is in life.  But does that signify defeat, and thus ignorance?  No.  The balance is found in a book.  A book that lays out what things can be learned, and what things will never be understood.  A 
book where life’s meaning is found on every page, every paragraph, every line, sentence and word.  A book written over the course of 2,000 years by 40 men, where every word was inspired by God.  Be free of the chains; liberation is never far away.

Stories

Stories: how powerful they are.  Cutting through to the very soul, leaving a raw and bleeding path in their wake.  Each line eliciting a new emotion, one that leaves the soul-bearer changed forever.  No more can the reader be innocent of the pain, love, insights or laughs that a single story can reveal.  Never again can the mind revert to its former self; forever changed, forever having entered a new awareness.  One can live a pretend life, as if unchanged, but somewhere, some time, perhaps in the dark of night or a weak moment, again will the story be brought to the forefront of the mind.  Inescapable, forever chained.  
Why can stories hold such power?  Simple words written on a paper.  But the force they wield can shape and hold sway over life and death itself.  Why?  A single voice penetrating, piercing.  Can mere words really be that affecting? 
So many have tried to control the power of words.  Some have caused unspeakable terrors, while others have shown love and encouragement, proclaiming the message they were given.  Still others merely flounder in a sea of words, their attempts at greatness falling by the wayside, soon to be swept away to make room for the new current.  
Stories.  A force so powerful, only one could, has, can, and will have complete control over it.  A force that bows to no one but its maker.  Only one man can claim that ownership.  A man called Messiah.  Prince of Peace.  King.  Lord.  Emmanuel.  Jehovah.  Yahweh.  Savior.  Redeemer.  Christ.  Son.  Jesus. … God.

Frustration

Sometimes I want to scream, to shout my furies to the world.  Oh why must life be such a stage, a dance, with a mask to wear and too many opportunities to make a wrong step?  For once, could there be no consequences for sharing completely who we are and what we feel?  Life is too short to tiptoe around subjects, but that's exactly what we do.  We are taught to live a certain way, and when we go against that grain, it is we who bear the brunt of if.
Not surprisingly, the source of my frustration is relationships.  This time, I'm having to deal with a friend of mine trying to set me up with a friend of hers. My tastes are completely different from this friend, yet she decided to try to hook me up anyway with a guy I don't know, have heard nothing about, and who now knows things about me.  What irks me the most, however, is that she didn't even ask me before thrusting this on me.  I feel like my personal life has been invaded somewhat, and it is something that I would never do to her.  Not without permission first.  There's also an eerie coincidence in it though.  All the guys whom I've had awkward relationship frustrations with have all had names starting with the same letter.  After this amount of time, I'm kind of wondering if it's a sign of some sort.
Now maybe I wouldn't mind as much if I felt I didn't have a chance with a certain someone else.  But the truth is, I may be starting to feel something for this guy, and I don't really know how to read him yet.  Maybe there's a chance, and I'm hoping there might be, but even if there doesn't come anything from it, right now I'd be okay too.  I just have to guard my heart, and hope I don't end up lying to myself.  I also wish I could go with the whole "no consequences" bit and just make my feelings known.  But again, there's a proper way to do things, and it could backfire otherwise.
I wonder though if I set my standards too high though sometimes.  The question is about where to draw the line, what to give or take.  I simply don't know.  And the not knowing is part of what frustrates me the most.  So here's basically my rant, and my scream, albeit one that does nothing to help situations.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The right 'rights' to fight for

So there's this post that's been going around on Facebook that I really can't ignore.  The post goes like this:


Don't like gay marriages? Don't get one... Don't like cigarettes? Don't smoke them... Don't like abortions? Don't get one... Don't like sex? Don't have it... Don't like drugs? Don't do them... Don't like porn? Don't look at it... Don't like alcohol? Don't drink it... Don't like your rights taken away, then don't take away someone else's.

This is my response:

The person that agrees with all of this is very skewed in their thinking as well.  With this kind of thinking, choices only affect the individual.  However, as life continues to prove, this is completely false.  Choices affect a number of people.  Take for instance the gay couple who got married.  They later adopt a child, but that child is at a disadvantage: they will never know the true relationship they could have had with a father and a mother.  They will always be missing out on one side.  The smoker may not care about their own health, but do they realize that their bad habit has caused the asthma afflicting their children?  Do they care enough for the health of their loved ones to stop?  And what about the father who's heart was broken when he found out he would never hold his baby girl because the mother got an abortion?  What about the couple who's unable to have children of their own, but desires to share their love with a child?  Instead of abortion, try adoption.  As for the sex issue, how many people have been forced to have sex when they didn't want to?  Where was the protection of their rights?  And think about the family who grieves the loss of their child because of how a drug addiction killed them.  How many women have been forced to become the objects of porn entertainment in order to scrape up a living?  Alcohol also affects many people.  Take for instance the child who is scared to go home to a drunk they call a parent because of the abuse they suffer.  Or the wife who must break apart a family because the husband doesn't care enough to put his family before the bottle.  Bottom line?  All choices deal with rights, the question is who's rights are being stomped upon, and who's rights are being given every benefit.  You may think your choice, your right, affects only you.  But stop and think about who's rights are being compromised so that you may fulfill yours.  What 'rights' would be better left behind so that life could be the prevailing victor?  What rights should be fought for?  I say we fight for the rights that protect the welfare of life, not the distruction of it.

Secrets

Will is my secret.  No one here knows him like I do; no one knows him at all.  He lives in England, or rather, he lived in England.  Here, he has no home, but the one I share with him.  His family was left behind, but we see them from time to time, saying sometimes for months.  Will often acts as a different person when in public here.  The clothes he wears are different, his attitude not as formal.  He acts as I have coached him, as though he has been Americanized.  When we are at his home, I too must act on his coaching.  My manner must be severely formal, and I must be careful in how I speak.  I must change my accent to match Will's, and use a story that is not my own.  Our worlds are completely separate, but with Will by my side, there is no where to call home than with him.  Between us, we have no secrets, but we must protect our secret from the rest of the world.  Will was born in Bradford, West Yorkshire, England, in the year 1823.  I was born in Nebraska, in the year 1992.  We are able to travel randomly between Will's home and mine, but neither of our families know the truth of who we are, and who we have become.

Latin poem

Cum umbrae in nocte, 
Visus verbis fugam,
Miscere duas visiones quasi componere inveniant vitam sub sole.