Christian

144.

Our bodies are corrupt and our hearts easily swayed, so it’s important to stand alert.

Temptation isn’t a sin. It’s what happens after that might be (the reaction to its appearance).

The question at hand is: if we aren’t running from sin, are we running to it?

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140.

El Roi; the God who sees me.

Here when breath finds itself lost in a crowd, when feet melt into water and fall sideways. Watching these hands fail to grip the balloons of dreams and have them popping in the intensified air. This yarn of thought scrambled, disconsolate, eventually frayed. Crease all the papers into attempted perfect folds, run the life that never is.

Six feet under in the space I’m supposed to call home.

Flower on the wall, grown strange and peculiar. Remember to stand tall, raise the hand of one’s heart, even when it quivers interminably. Speak in words that don’t exist, for more so is none important. The dark and the shadows find shape in gentle light. The hand outstretched that never intrudes the bubble.

I know just the special little something for you, He whispers lovingly.

Look up and know.

El Roi; the God who sees me.

104.

You see in me more worth than the measuring cup I take to myself.

Where I see useless stones, Your loving eyes tell me that there are hidden diamonds quietly being unearthed, each with their own time.

Shaky unfinished form that I am, I will step deeper into this faith knowing that it is one that causes even the unturned rocks to cry out in praise.

91.

She dreamt of a stranger, his fractional smile a mere flicker before he disappeared over the building’s edge.

This wakes her up, filling her with irrational tension. A haunting peculiar for it is a place never seen before, with a faint touch of the ethereal.

Who are you, she quietly asks with an arm outstretched, but her words are simply mixing with oxygen.

Weeks go by, and it remains a sequence that slips in uninvited from time to time. The same wakefulness will capture her utmost attention, but there is no clue. Until one day, in the most ordinary of ways, she sees him in a street full of people. And mad is she, certainly, to have glimpsed a cordial curl of the mouth?

His gaze averts, and she pursues. Though foolish to endure without reason, she will not be deterred. They arrive on the rooftop, a scene startling alike. His foot leaning by the end of all that is.

She walks slowly, terribly afraid to see that moment. When she is but two steps away, his voice breaks.

Do you trust me? are the words uttered.

Take a deep breath. Nod of the head.

Close your eyes, he murmurs with a faint smile, and she does.

Hands curve themselves and then, the lightness of being. A scream. They are falling into gravity’s coarse arms. There is no comfort in the aforementioned thought.

He whispers against her ear, believe.

And believe, believe in facing the unknown courageously and this is when they fly upwards by the spread of his wings. Her eyes widen.

You’ve always been too afraid to face the end of your dream, he says with a gentle smile. And now you finally know.

73.

Bewildered by beauty, I gave broken pieces and You built me a palace of glass.

You remind me of my inheritance, that the shine of the heirloom on my head is a symbol of Your interminable love.

Lift your eyes, my child, are the words You gently whisper, for often I forget to stop staring at my damaged feet and instead to sight endless glory.

What else can I do, but to always try my best to grasp the depth of Your faultless love?