the taste of blood

This represents a journey and freeflowing thought, unedited, without any preconceived idea or direction. It may not be cohesive or linear but it is a window into the thought process and what was really on the mind.

slay the moon
steal it from the sky
clothed with the night
we can roam, run, dance
each day is hope
as we step, climb
to an unknown life
even as we tire and decay
as subjects of gravity and entropy
and as our bodies are swallowed
our graves will taste no glory
for its lust for death
has been forever sated
by the taste of blood
unsoiled by the haunt of Hades

the mighty sepulcher beckons
all too familiar with our names
that once rested in its vices
to forget that death,
clothed as sheep,
keeps us from living
with its seductive whispers

Death, you've been defeated
you know the end result
in the final book
it has been writ
"it is done"
you shall not slay us
day by day
with our memory
we will hold on to love
for a day without love
is no life at all

this taste of blood
stings from the stains it leaves
yet, testament to lasting love
that gave life
so let us live,
live love
for, without love we are nothing

disintegrating

I wanted it so bad, to be out of the vastness of that great desert land that I called home for such a short time. To be in conversation with people that know me well. To be in comfort. To speak and not feel dependent upon the pen. To not feel as if my existence only mattered if people cared and were reading what I wrote. To end the pangs of separation and distance from love that you try to ignore, only to find that they don't go away.

We all need a purpose, to discover our passions. There are so many books about this and those that tell us that a lot of times we kill ourselves pursuing other things and that is why we feel so un-alive. When I was in Mongolia, I felt alive in that I knew that each day was a step of faith and that I was surrounded by foreignness, ripe with learning opportunities. I felt dead in that I wanted people to share it with. Now things have been flip flopped, and the adjustment isn't as clear as transitioning from dry cold to humid tropics. It is so subtle. Relationships with family and friends truly sustain me and I just feel ever refreshed, soaking in their love and seeing how they live. Yet, the future seems so unclear. As excited as I should be, I find myself gripped with a bit of fear. #1 on my list is being united again with the one that I foolishly keep trying to play hard to get with distance. Yet, beyond the happy feelings is the need to take the next step or support oneself. Work for a year? Or two? A real job? Or a job where you can just save up? Or one where you get little pay but good experience?

Ah the uncertainty. I hate it. I love it. I am used to having options that seem amazing and then having to choose. Time to strap up and go. Take a few steps. Maybe run a little. The option that I tend to take doesn't seem to be there. My philosophy tends to be that the harder thing to do tends to be the right thing, because it will stretch you and make you grow. Yes, that may be hard to believe considering I am a comfort zone coach potato but at least that's how I think.

Why can't I just do what I want to do? Why do we have to play these career games where we take on things knowing that it will give us a chance in the long run?

My friend is running off to the Philippines and going to be serving God with the skills and passion that have been cultivated through his experiences, background, and just big 'ol heart. Am I jealous? Yes. Should I be? I know I know, I just went to Mongolia. But, there's this thing with being away from everything and knowing that you have to just live each day trying to serve God...there's something exciting about that. When it's not about the income, not about what you are going to do tomorrow.

I feel like I am disintegrating. Something comforting in knowing your purpose and passion. Oh, to know that.