Whispers in the Mist

"More Weight"

2009-05-01T17:38:00.000-05:00

Burden seems a weight upon the chest.
A pressing that impedes the muffled pulse.
Will to continue becomes a breath expelled and lost.
Motive waxes and wains no less frequent than the pendulum's swing.
Spirit dulls. Lungs shallow.
The mind sears with use. Pressure inevitably detours to the head.
Arms and legs turn to gutters pooling blood apart from the load.
Hands grow numb and weak and loose their grasp on the soul.
One's eyes dim and focus skews.
Response dulled. Motion stilled.
And silence fills the room.

How the Heart is Made Whole

2009-04-09T15:54:00.002-05:00

Who could have known the heart is healed in seeking to save the soul?
That entirety lies in inquiry of one's eternity.
That peace comes in parting with forbidden pleasures.
For when the Father forgives all fallacy,
Serenity shines in the mind of the servant
Because mercy masks all mares.
Kindness is kindled,
Life becomes an inlet for love,
And the Lord lends leaven to our work.
That the world need not wonder,
But be blessed in abundance by the Word
Which He has written.
Let us then, bear witness to the workings
Of the Lord within our lives
And so lead listeners onward to life not bound within earthly limitation,
But illuminated by the Light that leaves none lacking.
The truth to triumph is not through terrestrial pursuits,
But only in practice of the principles found within those precious pages can
The pierced heart be healed and the soul finds its' long-sought salvation.

Chaos Within The Heart

2009-04-09T15:54:00.001-05:00

What are we?
Rather, why are we?
Madness and genius are not conditions of the mind
But rather substances produced in the marrow and circulated throughout the body.
And the body is nothing but a prison to the soul if it is without mind.
Curious, it seems, the deterioration and blossoming of the intellect appears so very similar to onlookers.
Bystanders in an acrobatic collision.
Tears shed, caught, and passed along hand-to-hand like pearls.
Strung up to be worn as an ornament about the throat.
Pain turned to beauty. Like a butterfly pinned to a cork board.
Here. I saw you were beautiful, so I killed these flowers in your name.
Beauty for beauty. An acceptable sacrifice.
Time bends and loops contorting to facilitate our insignificant existence.
Not a theme park attraction, but waves breaking on the sand.
Granules stirred in submersion results in a salty snow globe.
This is the chaos within the heart. Sediment pulled, pushed, tossed, and thrown.
Swirled about. Memories. Photographs. Images summoned by recollection.
Flashes indicative of a mood or sentiment. Portions of that which was set to music.
This life will play upon the screen of eternity though all and none will see.
A screen strung up by the giver of life. Of souls. Of the heart.
Mine is torn, and thus I await my seamstress.
What have I to repay you with?
Here. Flowers.
Beauty for Beauty.

The Warrior

2009-04-09T15:53:00.004-05:00

Not a knight, nor a noble.
Never could he be called a king.
But he was a man of God,
And that was more than enough.
A knight would fight for his nobleman.
To protect the title of his Lord.
And the nobleman would go to war for his king.
To ensure his portion of the kingdom remain his own.
The king would choose his adversary with gain in mind.
But as for the man of God,
He would battle for a far greater commodity.
Neither gold, land, or resource of any sort
Could scarcely compare to the worth of the soul.
His loyalty lies with the Lord of lords
And his labors align accordingly.
But his brand of battle boasted a far higher worth.
For he was only a single soldier of a holy army.
An army which every advancement was aided by angels' wings.
An army not just of men.
Not bound by gender or age.
Not limited by race.
Not cheapened by place of earthly origin.
His life would be spent in combat.
Not a moment of reprieve could be granted.
Not an instant off guard.
Too much lie at stake.
He forged his own armor in the way he had read.
His sword was bound with a leather spine
And filled with tattered pages.
He would wield it wisely knowing well his weapon's worth.
It could pierce even the hardest heart
And bring nations to their knees
So that all may bow before the King.

The Paradox of Human Wisdom

2009-04-09T15:53:00.003-05:00

"The wise man does not think himself wise."
I do not know who first said this,
But he must have been wise and saw himself a fool.
For if the wise man thinks himself wise,
Then he is a fool.
However, the inverse is pure truth as well.
The fool does not think himself foolish.
And if the foolish man thinks himself foolish,
Then he is wise, for he sees the truth.
But how can this be?
The fool cannot be wise and the wise be foolish.
Then if the wise are not so and the fools know wisdom,
Then who can claim either side?
Because if the wise man sees himself as wise,
Then he never was wise to begin with and he is a fool.
Likewise, if the fool sees himself as wise,
Then he is still a fool and did not gain wisdom.
To distinguish further, only the wise know that no man is wise,
But all are as fools.
So now I ask which are you?
Wise or foolish?
Because however you answer,
You are wrong. :)

Life

2009-04-09T15:52:00.001-05:00

Life. Such an irreverated term.
What does it mean to experience life? To live?
To know you are alive.
Is it just existence, or is it something more?
More than being aware.
But, rather, understanding.
More than concern.
But caring.
And not just caring.
But love!
From the moment our eyes brighten in birth,
Till they draw dim in death,
We are surrounded by those we love
And those in whom the sentiment is found to be mutual.
These same people will stand by us through this so-called life
And share the moments that define what it means to live.
They give the photo meaning. Worth.
So that it is not just a piece of paper or an image on a screen.
It is not just a moment frozen.
But a memory stored and cherished.
A story remembered and retold.
People who knew each other.
Held hands and shared a laugh.
Looked to the sky and smiled at God.
And thanked Him for this blessing in company.
Life has purpose.
To make obstacles yield.
To tame tribulations.
To still the waters.
To strive for perfection of spirit.
To search the world for yourself.
May you obtain the the impossible.
Run your fingers through a cloud.
May you love without reserve.
See the Lord in the face of another.
May you leave behind a legacy.
Bring a new life into this world.
Sing it a lullaby.
Rock it to sleep.
Kiss it goodnight.
And may you never forget what it means to live.

One Day, Not Yet

2009-04-09T15:51:00.000-05:00

One day, when I have passed on,
Do not mourn my absence.
Do not shed a tear for my sake,
But if you must, let it be one of joy,
And not of sorrow.
We are apart only for the now.
I am not lost, but free.
Finally free.
Free to go Home.
Free to reunite with the
Saints gone on before.
Free to abide with the Good Lord
For now and forever.
Do not eulogize me wearing dim garments,
But wear white to celebrate my ascension.
Reminisce, if you must, of our shared past,
But do not forget to anticipate our future.
And If the Good Lord is willing,
I will wait for you on the other side of those famed gates.
I will wait for the day when you too ascend.
Then I will be among those who welcome you Home.
Beautiful, isn't it, this place of light?
We will sing with the angles hymns we never knew till now.
We will praise the Almighty.
The Creator. The Sustainer. The Giver of Life.
Our Lord.
Our Father.
Our Friend.
Do not shed a single tear for me.
For I am Home.
I am Home.

My Firefly

2009-04-09T15:50:00.000-05:00

What is darkness?
Is the scientist right in saying there
Is no such thing as true darkness?
Are you like-minded to the artist
Who says it is the opposite of white?
Would you quote the philosopher
And call it the absence of light?
Do you have your own definition?
Peculiar explanation?
Unique opinion?

Your hand lies in mine.
Fingers comfortably interlaced.
I give yours a squeeze to remind you
That you are here. You are understood.
You are held. You are safe.
You are not alone. You are loved.
You are mine.
And I am yours.

I say darkness is a life spent without you.
A life not illuminated by your eyes.
A life without your precious smile.
A life without your beautiful voice
Or your warm laugh.
Darkness is not having your hand to hold.
Knowing you are not there.
You are my light and without you,
I am blind.
Without you there is no color.
No detail. No clarity. No way.
Without you I am lost.

You are my firefly.
You are my candle.
You are my moon and my stars.
A light in the darkness.

I say the philosopher was right.
Darkness is the absence of light.
Darkness is the absence of you.

Where Are You?

2009-04-09T15:47:00.000-05:00

Where are you?
I want to hold you, but you are not here.
I want a reason to stop crying and start smiling.
Just a sigh of relief and not another of grief is all I ask.

Where are you?
Are you with someone else?
Is he good to you?
Does he hold you close and whisper things in your ear?
Does he give you his jacket and endure the cold?
Does he even care?

Where are you?
How much longer until our paths cross?
I'm not perfect, but I will try for you.
I will change for you: turn my world around.

Where are you?
How much longer must I suffer alone?
My hands are cold.
My cheeks are wet.
My heart is dying.
Will I ever find you?

Where are you?
Fill this empty seat next to me.
Squeeze my hand to make sure I have not left.
Lean on me when you are weary.
I would never let anything happen to you.
I would give my last breath
To ensure you could breath just one more.
That is why I'm here.
I'm here.

But, where are you?

A Cup of Christmas Punch

2008-11-16T19:19:00.002-06:00

The house was crowded. Christmas music softly bounced off the walls. The outside lights glowed softly in through the window blinds. The smell of casseroles and all manner of baked goods drifted through the air. Children chased each other around adult feet and between legs pushing their way through the packed halls. Cousins, brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews all giggled with laughter and small shouts. They were anxious to tear the paper off of any box with their name on it, but it was not yet time to do so. Adults filled the kitchen, laughing too but with bigger, longer laughs that filled the home. They sat close to the food so they could continue to snack on the finger foods and refill their cups with punch even though they had already eaten and knew full well they were stuffed. Jokes were made but only listened to by some. Several different conversations all echoed over one another. Some sat, and some stood. The teenagers awkwardly sat in their own corner. They felt as though they didn’t belong; too old to run and yell, but still intimidated by adult conversation. They would be content to be left to their own devices and drink their punch, so long as they could keep their back to the wall. The commotion was nearly overwhelming. Each member of the family had his or her own agenda. Things to do. People to great. Traditions to upkeep.
Except for little Timmy. He sat with his legs crossed in front of the tree. The lights twinkled and blinked and reflected off the ornaments. He had seen quite a few Christmas trees in his short span of life thus far, but never like this. He had herd many Christmas songs in his five years, but they never had sounded so sweet. He looked over his shoulder and saw his family, people he knew and loved. He had never watched them like this before, and for that, he was sorry. Each face had a story. And each voice had a laugh. Not one was without flaw, but Timmy loved them. Each and every one. He would even die for any one of them. Because he loved them. No other reason. He turned and adjusted his posture, clasped his hands, and bowed his head. He prayed for each of them. That God would protect them and that he would help them to live and love. To do the right thing everyday. He thanked God for putting him in this family above all others. And as Timmy prayed, a tear fell on his folded hands. Amen. He smiled a thankful smile and looked back up at the tree.
“Hey Timmy?” Hey turned around to see Grandpa smiling there with two cups of punch, one in each hand. “Do you want some punch?” Punch? That sounded good. He reached out to accept the offer. “Thanks Grandpa,” he said with another thankful smile. Grandpa slowly sat down on the floor with Timmy. “Merry Christmas, Timmy.” “Merry Christmas, Grandpa. I love you.” “I love you too, Timmy,” he said returning the smile with one of his own. They both sat there together and watched the tree twinkle and blink while sipping their punch.

Merry Christmas, Guys. Don’t take it for granted.

Do Not Forget to Live

2008-10-28T10:22:00.001-05:00

Life is so very short.
All we have is yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Watch the stars while you can.
With it or against it,
Walk in the wind.
Listen to each sage
Learn all you can
Laugh at each joke
Love each face
Lead the way
Whether or not you are being followed.
Cherish each complement
Each commitment
Each comrade.
Breath deep the winter chill
And the summer warmth alike.
You do not need an occasion
To celebrate and do so often.
Rejoice in every moment.
At every blessing.
For every cause.
Never pass an opportunity to love or be loved.
Hold to those you love and
Defend them to the last breath.
Hug each neck and shake every hand.
Smile at a stranger.

If you seek knowledge,
Go to man.
If you seek wisdom,
Go to God.
Walk in his creation with reverent awe
And trust him in trials.
He will hold you close
No matter how often you stumble.
Pray with fervor and weep if you feel inclined.
He will catch every tear.
But no matter what you do,
Do not forget to live.

Forbidden Love

2008-10-23T19:58:00.002-05:00

Let's run away.

Far from here.

Why not go now?

Tell no one.

The rain has discontinued for the night.

Nothing but wet leaves lie in our way.

Without a light for our path

But the moon, a candle, and love.

Run. Anywhere but here.

Fade away. Cease existing. Disappear.

We will bleed into the wind

And be no more.

Let's ride the current among the stars

And drift on into the black abyss.

Witness eternity, touch infinity.

Defy logic and break the very laws of this realm.

They no longer apply. Not to us.

Showtime (Eng. Comp. Essay)

2008-10-22T20:55:00.012-05:00

Travis Stetler

English 101

Mr. Segars

3 November, 2008

Showtime

It proves interesting that a primetime TV watcher's personality can be classified by his or her favorite shows. An individual who may watch House religiously may have a healthy appetite for problem solving and comic relief. A Grey's Anatomy addict probably is a hopeless romantic with an ear for social drama. Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles watchers hunger for a meaningful sense of purpose found in war. And the typical Heroes fan would most likely be a deep and eclectic individual who 'wants it all.'

One of the most popular TV shows on primetime television would be the Fox channel original House. Airing every Monday night, this sarcastic saga has captured the hearts and ratings of millions of viewers nationwide. The main protagonist, “snarky” Dr. House, provides the large majority of the shockingly dry and insensitive humor that abounds to balance the drama that exists within this medical facility. Despite his abrasive nature, House proves himself time and again as a medical genius and thereby receives a new medical mystery every episode to poke and prod. These mysteries never fail to keep the cast as well as the viewers on their toes at all times.

Patrons of House are drawn into each episode by his or her intellect. The witty one-liners pouring out of Dr. House’s cluttered mind are not always grasped by the weak minded. His snide remarks and inappropriate behavior are a fountain of guilty pleasure

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for the generally well mannered viewer. The inquisitive watcher becomes as obligated to see the matter through just as the patient’s physician. And anyone with basic medical knowledge finds oneself in a virtual race with House to find a diagnosis by the end of the episode.

Another prominent medical show is ABC’s top drama Grey’s Anatomy. Dr. Meredith Gray is just starting out on her medical career in one of the nation’s top fictional hospitals, Seattle Grace. Despite her incredible natural aptitude for her profession, her inability to manage her personal life, emotions, and dysfunctional relationships continually keeps her in constant trouble at work. Grey’s friends are not much better at life than she is. Challenge after tribulation occur and she finds herself drowning, sometimes more literally than others.

Grey’s Anatomy provides a sense of understanding for those of us with less-than-perfect lives. Those who have been through more than they wish to share seem to draw comfort in seeing someone in similar or, perhaps, more severe hardships. Throughout it all, Meredith struggles with a “dark and twisty” past, anxiety, stress, commitment issues, immoral decisions, and unsatisfactory relationships; most of which are issues viewers easily relate. Meanwhile, “high school drama” abounds in the workplace playing off the belief of some that life, aside from more freedom and responsibility, doesn’t change much after graduation. However, the main theme is one in which we all participate: the pursuit of love.

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On the other end of the spectrum, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, new to Fox, is an excellent blend of depth and war. Based on the 1984 pop-culture classic The Terminator, this series brings an extremely deep plot highlighted by pyrotechnic sci-fi action scenes. When engaged by robotic assassins sent back in time to “terminate” him, teenager John Connor, son of Sarah Connor and future world leader, must find a means of survival and purpose within his prophetic calling to lead humanity toward victory. Until it is time to fulfill his destiny, he must remain in hiding, because if he were to die, the world would have no hope of survival.

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles attracts those who realize there is a time for everything, including war. The teenager demographic is well filled due to John’s age. John frequently tries to duck out of the responsibility that awaits him. He, although just a teen, feels a great burden upon his shoulders, like so many others. Those intellectually inclined will enjoy the subtle themes relating to the Manhattan Project, Samson and Delilah, and The Wizard of Oz. Every action junky is sure to get his daily allowance of adrenaline during each fast-paced fight scene. And the very concept of time travel and robotic humanoids encased in living tissue is more than enough to get your typical science geek fidgety with anticipation during each commercial break.

Finally, no discussion about primetime television would be complete without mentioning NBC’s hit phenomenon Heroes. While being on air for only 3 seasons, this run-away series is outlined in elements of fantasy, science fiction, drama, suspense, mystery, and action appealing to the true eclectic. All of these elements come together to

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spin a tangled yet delicate web of correlations, themes, and possibilities. Heroes features the classic “superhero” theme, yet brings it to the common man and enlarges the scale further than ever before. The world as a whole has normal people developing unique abilities. Each of which if faced with the choice to place his or her loyalty in a number of unsure locations.

Such a show evokes a reaction in people from all walks of life regardless of age, race, ethnicity, culture, or personality. There stands a character to for everyone to relate to. All types of people are willing to watch that they are considered in that so much is offered. Enthusiasts within each category of entertainment are guaranteed at least a taste of common ground while being challenged in several different ways. Those who “want it all” seem fascinated by the depth and diversity offered. Nevertheless, Heroes poses the timeless question, “what would your superpower be?”

People of all walks of life have found a common interest offered in primetime TV shows. Each of these people has a very specific list of shows that apply directly to their interests and individual personality traits. Whatever an individual’s favorite show may be, whether House, Grey’s Anatomy, Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles, Heroes, or any other, certain attributes of his or her personality can be reasonably deducted.

I Will Wait

2008-10-17T12:16:00.002-05:00

I love you though I do not yet know you.
I don't know your name or where you're from.
I don't know your family or friends.
I don't know your hair color, your nose,
Your eyes, or your beautiful smile.
But you are mine.
I haven't felt the warmth of your hands
Or the strength of your grasp.
I haven't stared into your eyes
Or ran my fingers through your hair.
I haven't hugged you from behind
Or scratched your back.
I haven't held your face in my hands
Or kissed your forehead.
But I will. One day. Not yet.
Until then, I will wait for you.
You are my future.
My co-bearer of blessings and curses alike.
My co-conspirator.
My fellow fireplace watcher.
My couch companion.
My blanket sharer. My blanket stealer.
My wife. My life. My all.
I am yours.

The Advantages and Disadvantages of FHU's Classification of Students into Social Clubs (Eng. Comp. Essay)

2008-10-08T19:20:00.007-05:00

Freed-Hardeman University, like most contemporary collages, has a selection of social clubs for its students to choose between or choose to ignore. And with almost all groups or organizations of the like, social clubs come with several advantages and disadvantages.

Chief among all the disadvantages of social clubs is division. Division here does not occur within the club but rather occurs amongst multiple clubs. In some extreme instances, fierce competition or even animosity tends to rise between the social heavyweights of an institution. This obviously detracts from the intended cohesion of the student populous as well as distracts from the educational atmosphere. Some smaller issues might include exclusion or alienation of individual students, deterioration of student relations, and lack of participation in particular campus sponsored events.

However, the presence of social clubs limited in clout and held in a reasonably cohesive manner can be a valuable asset to any university. Clubs aid students in shedding an all too common attitude of apathetic withdrawal. When students simply want to get by with what is required, social institutions can help. They also encourage "esprit de corp" or pride in the institution, and encourage association and participation.

A surprisingly large number of individuals find it difficult to "come out of their shell" when shifting scenery, and it is a natural human tendency to initiate, strengthen, and sustain relationships with individuals with similar interests and personalities. Social clubs deal with both points. Students may easily find a feeling belonging and acceptance within a club of like-minded peers as opposed an intimidatingly large and diverse campus. Simply put, clubs serve as a catalyst for social development, and thus the advantages vastly out-way the disadvantages.

Come and Go With Me

2008-10-07T14:39:00.002-05:00

I am going for a walk. Come go with me.
Over the mountains or to the sea,
Or we'll watch a forrest of trees wave in the breeze.
Anywhere at all, you choose. Please,
Take my hand and come go with me.

Much can be seen in days like these.
Like two autumn leaves, we'll float with ease.
However you please, come go with me.

This is not just some passing fling.
When the day is done, will you love me?
I will love you too, and so it will be.

Come. Come go with me.

Please

2008-10-07T14:38:00.002-05:00

Sing to me. With my eyes closed, let me see. I do not care what words you chose; they matter not. Just let me hear their precious harmony. Sing slow. Sing soft. Sing me into another world, another life, another time. Carry me far away. Anywhere. Breath to me a masterpiece. Show me ancient corridors split by rays of golden light. If you would allow them, they would warm my cold soul. Dust swirls through the beams and play upon the highs and lows of your beautiful voice. Wipe the tears from my heart with your notes. Your song purges away my inadequacies.

Make me whole.
Please.

Him. Not I.

2008-10-07T14:37:00.002-05:00

I am not worthy. I should not be allowed to hold it close or draw comfort from its words. I am not worthy to flip its pages or shift the ribbon from place to place. The broken leather spine should crumble to my touch. These wayward hands are not worthy to smooth its corners. I, the failed ambassador, bring dishonor to its message, invalidity to its purpose, weakness to its strength. I have missed the mark, thus how could I possibly teach others to aim? I am not worthy. I, the creature of the light whom dwells within the darkness, how could I carry the message? Because I am already where it needs to be spoken. Those who too are unworthy are all around me, yet they long to hear. Who am I to tell them? ...Who am I to deprive them? So they draw near for hope, I will open my mouth and let the Lord speak.

He is worthy, not I. Not I.

If Only...

2008-10-07T14:35:00.002-05:00

Let me sleep. A pillow lay beneath my head and a blanket wrapped tightly about. My eyes closed, I will now escape this world. The darkness will envelope me and take me far away. I wish to wander within a labyrinth of pines, hear the cold, white snow crunch beneath my bare feet, and feel the caress of a frigid chill about my face. No stars show thru the canopy of thick needles, but the moon in its beautiful prime will not be stopped. Its glow turns the night into a secret day between days, a secret I will take with me always. Beams pierce the foliage and captivate my soul. I could never wish to gaze upon so heavenly an object. How I wish to touch it if only for a moment. I cannot and thus sorrow overtakes me. I howl an apologetic serenade. All my breath, every ounce of devotion put forth in one long sigh. Thus my duty lie fulfilled, my purpose complete. If only…

Let me sleep.

In the Moment

2008-10-07T14:32:00.004-05:00

Let each second move slower. Let the clock hand stick. Let each breath draw deeper, each heartbeat calmed, every motion stilled. Let all noise be silenced. Let time know patience. Let all else fail to matter. It is for and in the moment that you live. Savor it. Feel it. Keep it. It will soon pass, but for now, it occupies the present. You are in it and it in you. Look around. Behold that which is to see. Be.

Let each second move slower. Let the clockhand stick. Let time know patience.

...and all will cease.

Giving Pause

2008-10-07T14:29:00.006-05:00

What is life? A phenomenally complicated process of chemical reactions that give birth to even more complex happenings, or is it the hand of the Alpha and Omega Himself? Are we truly the product of the most miniscule of odds, or is there divine purpose within our existence? Within the vastness of the universe, the blank nothingness that spans far beyond our comprehension, how did matter come to be? What started it all? What started us? Quarks to protons, neutrons, and electrons. They take on charges or remain undecided. Why? Such interact to make up atoms. Why do the protons and neutrons cling to one another so intensely and condemn the electrons to observe from afar in an eternal orbit? Atoms express personality in selecting friends to bond with. Such unions colide or unite with others discovering new comrads and forgetting old ones. This is the gossip that reverberates throught the cell; speak of union, division, and transaction. It sustains itself with what mankind blindly proclaims to be the most simple of self-propetuating chemical cycles. Input, output, and efeciency; microscopic necessity. Cells to tissues, tissues to organs, organs to systems, systems to life. ...And here i sit typing. Such postulations never to be drempt if one of an infinate number of pieces out of place. No. Probibility is not enough. This relm in which we each exist is a fluke of fate? No. This is the genius of my God.