- Books, Literature, and Writing
Writing for the Soul
The Magical IT
Let me introduce you folks to my favorite word in the English language. Now there are hundreds of thousands of words and sounds that are plenty of fun, true. But my favorite is something that surpasses all those long and ardous, short and sweet, and just plain words; IT.
Oh, I know what you're thinking. It? That's it? But I want you to sit back and think about it for a second.
Honestly there is no word, preposition, verb, noun, adverb, or adjective that can compare with those two letters. As with any massively popular word, It does have those words who would like to take it's place (That actually came close once). However, it holds true. IT is anything it wants to be. It is any color, it is any size, it is any place, it is any object, it is even any person. It can be as small as the letters that spell it, or as large as the whole universe. It applies to everything. It is magic.
I know you must be scratching your head, wondering when I'll come to the point. But I'm still waiting for you to think about IT...
Think, if you will, of a world without IT...
** was a dark, stormy night. (There goes the creepy start to the story. The night was a dark and stormy night just doesn't have that same spark.)
I love **! How did you know? **'s just what I've always wanted! (I can hear this now... I love jewelry! How did you know? Jewelry is just what I've always wanted. You don't sound snobby or anything)
That's **! I've had enough! **'s over! (What would go there? That's All Folks, yuka yuka?)
I encourage you to do some more thinking on It. Think of your own empty it spaces and how you would fill them were it to be gone forever.
I jest, but there is a point to all this talk. It is a perfect example of many things, but most of all, it is a wonderful example of under appreciation. It works nonstop, filling in for words that take the day off to go to dictonary conventions and sign signings. It is used over and over with no regard to what it is being applied to. But does it throw up it's crossed T and dotted I and say forget this? No, it keeps on truckin'. Daring to go where no word would go, to be what no other word would dare to be... anything at all.
There's an it for everyone, a place, a hobby or anything you can dream of. It is up to you. Whatever your it is, go find it. It's waiting for you. Go after it with all your heart.
Poem of ME (Work in Progress)
An unspoken rage, a pain deep inside,
Hide it, I can't, Believe that I've tried.
There is no way to know or a way to explain
I hate it with passion yet revel in pain
Life seems so perfect When eyes are clasped shut
But they must open if you wait long enough
Time too may pass with a patience so kind
But creeps upon you like a thief from behind.
Bleeding Heart Poem
Can you still breath when your heart is broken?
Will it still beat to its passion song?
Can you still see when the light has darkened?
Will it ever come back to you once it has gone?
Can you still dream of love pure and real,
When the dream you were given is over and done?
Can you ever be with the love you were meant to,
When the one who you love has left you alone?
Sheperd's Gift Christmas Poem c. 2006
It was a cold, dark night, darker than most,
In the small town of Bethlehem, which was playing host.
The tax census was to be held there that year.
Unaware of the miracle that was drawing near,
A Shepherd boy rested on a green, rolling hill,
Protecting his flock from a wolf's dreadful kill.
He had no company to keep him distracted,
Only the sheep and the dogs which protected.
He looked to the east, where night hid the Dead Sea,
And felt his soul empty, as souls sometimes can be.
He had no idea, the events of this night,
Would not only change history, but the rest of his life.
He glanced at his flock, then up at the sky,
And suddenly saw a huge star upon high.
It glittered and sparkled in a manner serene,
And strangely, unlike anything he had seen.
He no sooner had smiled at this gem in the sky,
Then an angel appeared, with the wind as it sighed.
He said, "A child has been born this night,
Who shall fill this world with Godly light."
The Shepherd boy, filled with awe, stated with revere,
"Would you have me go to him? Can I find him? Is he near?"
"Beneath the star, away on a hill, just outside of town,
There lies a manger in a barn, where the child can be found."
And just as he'd come, the angel was gone
Much like the melody of a lullaby song.
The Shepherd boy quickly gathered up his small flock,
And led them safely over green hills and unsteady rocks.
With an eye on the sheep, the other on the star,
He led them through town, which wasn't that far.
Crossing his path, he met proudly dressed men,
Who appeared to be hunting for a well to do den.
"Excuse us, young Shepherd," said the men, three,
"We are searching for someone, as you may see.
A child that may have been born this night,
Born to set our world's woes right.
We know not where he has found rest.
So perhaps with a guide our luck would be best."
Though surprised, the boy agreed,
And the wise men he did lead.
And just as the angel had said they would find,
There was a small stable on the hill that they climbed.
A small family rested there, with their newest addition,
In a trough, a baby boy, all wrapped up in linen,
And though but a babe, the three made deep bows,
Unawarely surrounded by sheep, chickens and cows.
They brought out gifts of myrrh, frankincense and gold,
Gifts which were lovely and rare to behold.
The Shepherd felt ashamed, he had nothing to give,
For he had little nothing from the life that he lived.
He had no money, for the taxes he'd paid
Had taken but all of the money he'd made.
And silently, he slipped out of the place,
And tears slid slowly down his face.
He felt so unworthy to see such a thing,
Unworthy to witness the birth of a king.
And as he stood beneath the stars,
Shedding tears, discovering scars,
Almost like a work of art,
God spoke straight into his heart.
'This is my son, an example of perfection,
he'll serve as a shepherd, yet with different direction.'
The boy walked back in and knelt,
Overcome by a thing he'd never felt.
He said, "The things you do shall be great,
You shall change many a man's fate.
You shall light the paths we travel on,
You shall take our faith and make it strong.
And what do I have worthy of you?
I only hope my heart might do."
The child, Jesus, smiled at him, warm as can be
And his soul overflowed like a mighty sea.
And though in his past, he may have sinned,
His faith was made invincible, strong as the wind.
Let this be a lesson, for those who feel weak,
God strengthens those who are willing to seek.
The Shepherd may not be seen worthy in this worldly haul,
But by God was found worthy, with the greatest gift of all.
The Night Spiders Attacked!
When our real-estate agent showed us pictures of the house, it was love at first sight. The quaint brick home with the red garage and ivy crawling up the side was cozy. The place felt like home. Although, the real test came when we visited. The owners were less than friendly, but we loved the warmth that emanated from the little house, and it wasn't due to a broken air conditioner, either. This was perfect.
So, the offer was placed. Now, it was time to wait... and wait... and wait. Then finally, after a whole week, we got our answer. The house was ours. Not for a couple of weeks, but still. Eventually, the day came when the keys were handed over.
My sister, Tara and I had planned a sleepover, spending the night in the empty house. We were there alone, so we slept in the den together. Or at least, we would have slept, if we'd been tired. Staying up late and watching scary movies, we had a blast. That was a great night.
Except for the giant spiders. No, I'm not talking about on TV. Apparently, our den was the midnight meeting place for all arachnids in the vicinity. The entire ceiling was crawling with spiders, like a scene from arachnophobia. Large and small, they appeared dozens of daddy long legs. As we lay there, watching the arachnid army gather, I wondered if they ate little girls. However, Tara assured me that they much preferred to eat little boys, who are more closely related to bugs.
Still, they watched us, with beady, little eyes. All sixteen pairs of them, which is very unnerving. To make matters worse, one of the larger spiders was crawling down the wall. The eight legged, foot soldier scurried across the floor, right towards us!
But we were prepared for battle. Without hesitation, I pulled out the can of Raid, aimed and fired. I missed slightly, but that was warning enough, as the arachnid retreated.
"And let that be a warning to all of ya'!" Shouted Tara in triumph.
Feeling confident in our victory, we settled down to watch the rest of the movie. It wasn't long before we fell asleep.
When morning finally arrived, the warmth of the sun poured onto my face, waking me up. I sighed relief; we had made it through the first night, spider army or not. I chuckled at the events of the previous night and told myself, I was never really afraid. I just played along, to make Tara feel better.
I glanced over at Tara, about to wake her. Looking back at me were sixteen pairs of eyes. There was a spider on her head! I screamed, grabbed the Raid, and sprayed the target.
I'm pretty sure Tara has forgiven and forgotten the incident of moving day 2001, regardless that she spent half that day rinsing Raid from her hair. I stand by what I said; I saved her life! Still, I haven't brought it up, better safe than sorry.
And as for the spiders. Well, I think that a silent truce has been made; they don't come in my room, I don't kill them. I still sleep with a can of Raid under my pillow, just in case.
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