Cole Porter was a genius

Like the moon growing dim
on the rim of the hill
in the chill, still of the night

Does anybody out there even

Read this blog?

The ending is not the story

Why not restart the day? Let's say it never happened. Why won't the picture fit the frame?

Throw those bad hours away. Make like they never happened. Will our lives ever be the same?

I have no idea where my head was at

We are more than dust

We are more than just blood and emotions, inklings and notions, atoms on oceans.

Stirring in me

If I find in myself desires nothing in this world can satisfy,
I can only conclude that I was not made for here

If the flesh that I fight is at best only light and momentary, then of course I'll feel nude when to where I'm destined I'm compared

Am I lost or just less found
On the straight or on the roundabout of the wrong way

Is this a soul that stirs in me
Is it breaking free, wanting to come alive

Because my comfort would prefer for me to be numb
And avoid the impending birth of who I was born to become

Speak to me in the light of the dawn
Mercy comes with the morning

And I will sigh, and with all creation groan, as I wait for hope to come for me

For we, we are not long here
Our time is but a breath
So we better breathe it

And I, I was made to live
I was made to love, I was made to know You

Hope is coming for me
Hope, He is coming

Happy St. Valentines Day