Narnian night

Black
And then the stars shone
And the fauns danced
Their slender bodies in the moonlight
The moles dug
Deeper into the depths of the earthy ground
The naiads danced among the humans

Narnia.
Oh Narnian night
I can see the stars alight
Centaurs stand erect and gaze
Oh Narnia,
Narnian night.

A tribute to the amazing C.S. Lewis who has inspired me and given me hope long after his death through the tales he wove.

Cryptic, though it doesn't quite fit

I don't know if anyone relates
But i have a thing where at different times in my life i have a 'starting' word.
Where whenever i intend to write something artistic, that word comes to mind
The current word is cryptic. Though i haven't actually followed through with it.
So, i'll try.

Cryptic life chips. Float around. Dance around. Try to find their pieces. All so slippery. All unwilling to tie together.
The urge to succeed that is repelled by laziness. Where the life chips refuse to work together. They all need a binding agent.
And it isn't going to be me.
It's got to be Him
But why do i resist.
I guess i love my life chips too much
Even though they only bring me misery.
Help me, i need You.

Him.

She was swept up like the wind sweeps the autumn leaves off the ground. She shone like the summer sun. Her heart as white as snow. She was fully herself and not full of herself. She was free.
But no, not ever before.
For before the flower of who she was ever bloomed, was a visually eternal night, with the slightest glimpse of light.
She sat in her room. Quietly. She scared herself with dark thoughts that lingered amidst the silence. The silence that was full of noise. Her name was Tamara. But she didn't know who she was. She wondered if dawn would ever break forth. And it seemingly did not.
He came in quietly. Like a hobbit of lore. And he wasnt so dashing, no fairytales, no knights.
He smiled as if he knew her but they had never met before. Little did she know, he was all she was looking for, running for, seeking for, dying for.
He said come dear one, i've watched you long. I've waited for your fruit to be ripe, for readiness to come your way.
He took her hand and let her out of it all. And suddenly her room was no more.

He's with you know
Singing a sweet melody
Dancing and laughing
Waiting for you to break forth
Dance, dear one, dance.



Ehem. This wasn't meant to be like, erotic or something.
Its just a product of a slightly emotional state of mind and hope in an amazing God.
That happened two months after July.
Oh how, how time flies.
Don't ask me why!

Ask the butterflies.

You now have permission to laugh at me.
Good night.

It doesn't feel good

Corrupt things allure.
We lust after things that are dead, not living.
Of sex unending and sensuality.
It doesn't feel good.
It takes away the light, the uniqueness of something special, something exciting.

Greed kills joy.
It promises to multiply the joy of the thing in its natural amount.
It doesn't feel good.

Balance is key.
That's the problem with all of us.
It's the simple 'kill the duck that lays the golden egg' story.

Let's be happy.
Happy that we have friends or in some cases including mine, happy that we did have friends in the past and we will have friends in the future.

Happy that we have the gift of food
Not crying cause we cant get that extra piece of cake.

Happy that sex exists as a gift from our heavenly father and that it can be shared with one person, and one alone.

See, we try to make somethings more special by multiplying it. But if we did multiply it, it wouldn't be special anymore.

It's enough in its true nature.