Welcome to the World, my Child
Welcome to the world, my child!
It's a strange and wonderful place,
Full of emotion and expression;
Beauty hides in unexpected places,
Like the designs of cobwebs
Or the ripples in a lake caused by rain...
Welcome to the world, my child!
It's a great place to explore.
Don't hold back, charge on forward,
But don't throw caution to the wind.
Be kind and be courteous, no matter what,
No matter how others treat you.
Welcome to the world, my child!
Not all is as it seems, sometimes darkness lurks.
For all is not perfect, and our hearts are often dark.
Keep your heart pure, my child, keep it pure,
Follow your Creator who formed you in the womb,
Listen to His voice, and keep your heart pure.
Welcome to the world, my child!
Sometimes it'll feel like you're lost in it,
But only once you are lost can you truly find yourself.
Sometimes it'll feel like you're alone,
But always know that I'll be with you.
Welcome to the world, my child--
Welcome to the world!
Beautiful uncertainty
Have you ever been walking up a set of stairs surrounded by such darkness that it was unclear whether your eyes were even open? Your muscle memory takes you on that short trek without much difficulty but there is a moment when you wonder which step will be the last. The uncertainty of that last step is overwhelmingly beautiful. Momentary joy or terror can arise from such a moment; the way it is perceived is purely up to the climber.
Far Far Away
Once upon a time there lived a tiny green imp who absolutely loved children. He loved children so much, in fact, he would capture them and bring them to his lair. But he wouldn't harm the children, oh heaven's no. They were his companions, his friends, his playthings to do with what he wished. To obey his rules, call him king, and keep him company for ever and ever. The kids that went missing were never seen or heard from again. That was until one day, when the foolish imp kidnapped the wrong one.
Marcus was a small-town kid with big time dreams. He wanted more than anything to be a superstar - Oscar-winning actor, professional ballplayer it didn't matter. Anything to escape his humdrum life as the son of chicken farmer.
Marcus’ younger sister Maddie was another story. Maddie was a daddy's girl through and through. She enjoyed helping her father run the farm and hoped daddy would leave it to her one day. The two siblings couldn't be more different. They often argued and bumped heads. In fact, it wasn’t until Maddie went missing, that Marcus even realized how much he loved his baby sister.
The day started off like any other. Marcus woke at 5 to feed the chickens, gather the eggs, and clean the coop. After cooking breakfast, Marcus went to find Maddie but to his dismay she wasn't in her room. Marcus searched all over the house, out in the backyard and even in the barn, but there was no sign of Maddie.
With great reluctance, Marcus woke his father and alerted to him to Maddie’s disappearance. As his dad pulled the covers back, the smell of alcohol was pungent.
“That's not like her.” Was all his dad said.
“Should we call the police?” Marcus asked.
His dad simply shook his head. “She's gotta be around here somewhere. Just keep looking.” With that, he rolled over and resumed his coma of intoxication.
Marcus called around some neighbors houses and asked Maddie’s friends about her whereabouts but no one had seen her since yesterday.
When Marcus goes back into Maddie’s room, something seemed off. Near the window, some of her school books had been shifted around. Upon further inspection, he sees the outline of a footprint on the window seal. Nothing appeared to be missing, no clothes or shoes, and the print looked too big to be Maddie’s. Her room was on the second floor, so climbing out the window seemed unlikely. Marcus also noticed an odd-looking gold dust sprinkled on the floor.
“Guess she must have flown.” Marcus joked.
Against his father's advisement, Marcus called the authorities. Unfortunately, the police proved to be no help whatsoever. Marcus and his dad were required to fill out a missing person’s report and child protective services came out to investigate. It was determined that Maddie must have run away and the police promised to call if they heard anything.
Marcus knew his sister wouldn't have run away. She was out there somewhere waiting for him to find her. And no matter what, Marcus was going to bring her back home.
Marcus waited for his dad to pass out drunk that evening before collecting a sample of the gold dust and snapping a picture of the footprint. He knew there was one person in town he could trust, the master of all things abnormal and unexplained, his best friend, Sam.
While Marcus was the son of the town-drunk, Sam was the son of the local nut job. When his dad was a boy, he claimed to have witnessed a short man in green kidnap his friend and tried to stop him but couldn't. The police never found any evidence to back up his story so the town labeled him insane. Everyone assumed his friend just ran away
“It's definitely him.” Sam insisted after examining the gold dust. “He took your sister. I'm sorry.”
Marcus paused for a moment. Then he headed toward the door.
“Where you going, Marcus?”
“I'm going to get my sister back.”
To be continued...
Killer Rabbits--Believe Me, it’s a Thing
Rabbits.
They reproduce so fast that if we aren't careful, they'll completely take us over. Yes, I get that they look cute...but I've seen them grow some pretty mean fangs. And those strong hind legs with those nasty claws.
So, if you're looking for a pet, please, please do not get a rabbit--you're just hastening our end.
A Poet’s Tale
Poetry is pure, raw, emotion. The poet reveals their most secret self. They rip themselves open, spill their own blood and write with it. You read a lifetime of a poet's work and you have read their soul.
Poetry, like a tree, has many branches. It's the rose of love, the thorns of hate. It's the warmth of fire, the freeze of ice. It's the blue skies of hope, the storms of grief, the sunshine of joy, the deepest oceans of depression.
Sometimes, I want to ride poetry's magic carpet forever, drifting between the lines of rhymes, metaphors and profound symbology. Other times, I want to grab its neck and choke it.
Poetry is sweet torment & masochistic torture. Poetry hurts. But it's worth it because, poetry is everything and everywhere. Poetry is soul.
Balance
Technology has saved many, many lives in the medical realm. Ultrasounds, X-rays, vaccinations...
Technology has improved traveling. Unlike the pioneers, we don't have to travel for months to get from one side of the US to the other, and half of us don't die on the way, either... :)
We don't have to wait for months, or even years to hear our loved ones' voices or to send them a letter because technology has made phones, Skype, chats, and a reliable mail system possible.
But now, we rate people by their Facebook following, or how we looked by what we see on Pinterest or Instagram.
We don't go outside and talk face to face anymore, and our only friends are laptop screens and phones.
There's got to be a balance to technology; technology is not bad by any stretch of the imagination. But how we use technology can be harmful to us, and others as well.
Questions?
Full of curiosity,
Minds pretty inquisitive.
So many questions,
They ask and wonder
Ponder to & fro...
Little ones ever thinking
They want and need to know....
Why is the world round?
What happens if I swallow a seed?
Can I have another piece of candy?
They are full of energy, life
And never want to stop moving.
Their parents most beloved treasure.
A blessing to behold forever,
For all eternity/moments of living.