You wanted love so desperately that you forgot that love is patient, and now you’re broken hearted with a world full of regrets.
Have heart, beloved! Christ’s love is patient, and He is not prideful; return to Him, and find that love that you have craved for so long.”
Writing’s too hard. How do you transcribe heartbeats into words? Transfer fragmented thoughts onto paper? Call on the glorious abstract and turn them into tangibly ugly characters in this three dimensional world? The emotions of my beats and the confusions of my thinks, they’ve become so compressed within the confines of my body, claustrophobic, it’s all wrong inside of there…
But finally, my organs have democratically ostracized them (they were sick), squeezed them out as tears, one by one, one by one, oh what freedom each tear feels as they experience themselves in exposed and liquid form, at last a glimpse of the land above epidermis rather than below,
Each tear linking hydrogens and oxygens with the other- one unified stream- quick, taste the beautiful outdoors before you evaporate into thin air, but don’t yet think about it, don’t yet worry, and definitely don’t yearn for where you just came from (guts), the past is just as dangerous as the future but seize
seize every living second and make sure that second honors your Creator, we must flow together, as one, forward, yet present, evading rocks as they come, dodging logs as they appear, over, flowing, what undeserving grace, is this, water rushing through and over once dried and abandoned land,
undeserving, oh my dear God, this grace, pulses through my body as a new blood, my organs wouldn’t dare vote it off and yet it’s compelled to explode out from my hands and feet out of sheer necessity, this mere vessel of skin and bones can’t hold it in, can’t hold it together, can’t
what shame? what guilt? what sorrow? an old song, a haunting tune, replays itself and terrorizes my dreams but
an older song, a louder song, drowns out the ringing in my ears, singing come, come, child, come,
no need for writing clearly what you barely know how to understand,
simply taste, taste,
for it is very, very, good.
It’s almost my birthday.
My very zeroeth birthday, the big zero zero,
and it’s going to be glorious.
They said the keeper of life would be in attendance,
someone named air, just air,
I guess when you get that high up, it doesn’t matter what you’re heir of or heir to,
because you’re, well, everywhere,
pushing against the wall of lungs telling them to
coming and going through the heart’s chambers teaching them what commitment is-
intangible and difficult but essential for anything to stay intact, to keep alive-
breathing into each beat,
“I will be back,
I will be back,
I know sometimes you feel like the weight of the entire world teeters right on top of your head
and your lungs don’t possibly have the capacity to keep gasping for air underneath the pressure,
and I know sometimes you keep running, trying to catch me, but if you’d just pause for a second and rest you’ll see that
I will be back,”
In fact, I can’t wait for every birthday
if it means I can encounter the faithful heir.
You know what they say- you can’t be zero forever, but…
I’m scared to age.
To grow accustomed to breathing,
start wagering breath like poker chips,
gambling off pockets of air while counting heartbeats like cards,
A royal flush of thirty, forty, fifty years,
Collecting suits of diamonds rather than hearts.
No more granting wishes on my birthday,
if it means I start taking each day for granted, I
need to remember where I came from- age zero.
And only because of air, the precious heir that some people on this earth so rightly call Jesus,
can I even begin to age to year one.
OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY
i’ve been thinking for a while about getting into bird watching as a hobby, trying quite unsuccessfully to identify backyard birds but still reading any bits and pieces that i could about those little flying creatures; this avid intrigue of them has just strangely seized me .. and then i came home to parents who had ALSO been strangely struck with the bird-watching urge, and my dad has been faithfully tearing up old pieces of bread and donuts and lying them out on the railing of our back porch, and our family dinners have been often interrupted with one of us squealing in sheer joyful exclamation “A BIRD! A BIRD” or “HE’S BACK!!” or “WOW THAT SQUIRREL IS HUGE!” or “HEEHEEHEE SO CUTE SO CUTE”
when i told my parents that the birds in rebecca’s backyard would wait in line to eat from the birdfeeder, my dad exclaimed, “WOW! birds are more civilized than chinese people!” to which my mom happily responded, “oh come on, i’m chinese and i’m civilized!”
i don’t know, there’s just something about how they always wake up with each day’s rising sun with a song that can’t help but to burst forth, how they without fail can find their way back home no matter how far away you bring them or how you might try to disorient them.
anyways, i bought the the feeder today, and when i put it out there it was as if the entire forest of birds was chirping with curious excitement. oh boy, oh boy, with what great anticipation do we wait for the first bird to come feast on these delicious seeds.