Space Ghost

To the friend I hope I am,

To be there for you is my wish

When you are alone, i would sit next to you

in silence or in laughter, sadness and sorrow

To love you is my desire,

A real man shed a tear, a brother an uncle a son

A woman gave her hand, trembling uncontrollable

Both gave their ear to this stranger,

hoping he would in turn listen in silence to their pain

giving his heart to them, submitting for a second

and being the friend they needed.

I do not wish to cloud my friends mind with lies,

but nor do i wish do dispel the hope of hope itself,

for behind every dark cloud is a darker cloud,

but the stars line space and the limitless possibilities for happiness beyond.

To the friend i hope i am,

Let me be there for you but still be a stranger,

talk to me with carelessness and i will in turn,

run through the rain,

tear the clouds from the sky and give you a pillow,

a shoulder to lean on and a bed to sleep in,

a friend, to me, is not one without fault,

nor one you undoubtedly depend on,

but someone who is willing to catch you when you fall like thunder,

cradle you in their heart, and bring you back up to space,

for you to float forever and never leave you feeling alone.

One day i will be that friend and you will know noone else like me,

there will no longer be a me, for we shall be one,

floating in the heavens,

two shall become one.

The Beginning of Truth

The perspective of the world grows daily through the torment of new trials and the happiness of daily victory.  But I stop and wonder from day to day, what it is that gives my hardship its eternal value. How is it that, when I look above the clouds in to the deepness of the black abyss, I can still go on? Why is it I know there is something I am meant to do, people to see and battles to fight, culminating in a reality far beyond what I can see today. The darkness that surrounds pushes me ardently forward to the light at the end of my life, and the cyclical lie begins to fade as the truth of my worth begins to show. Conspiracies arise to shroud the truth and doubts are born, but reality never changes, only I within it. 

I asked who is the God who made my God when I was a fool and I found no answer as God is and always will be the great I AM. And as I push through the thorns of this chaotic existence I hope to find him, and for him to be my friend like no other. But maybe it is all a dream and cannot be achieved but then where would I find hope? The seven looped noose would be my swift comforter upon my exit, and the stillness of time the bed on which I lay forever. 

How hopeless an existence this would be if all I lived for, all I hoped for was created as a tool to inflict physical slavery among my fellow men. Though all things are a possibility for those who create their own answers, I choose to stand and follow evidence where it may lead much like the greats before me, and their forefathers. Socrates was not the last of the greats with integrity, I too shall search through this plutonian shore, which my heart has become, to answer the question, “ What is truth?”

Many turn from God because of fear and many to God for the same, but what about those like me, to whom God is not yet a finite reality. What then do we do when religion holds no integrity, spirituality no reason and blind faith no assurance?

Do we then fall back into slavery or cry out from the bottom of our souls for freedom. All of these words have, from the beginning of my walk, lost their meaning, freedom, hope, love, truth and honor. No longer.

My struggles paint the picture and the scars create the history. I shall find my assurance and happiness and this is the journal of my thoughts.

“Those who seek truth, seek God, even without knowing it.”

Edith Stein

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