And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low,
God hideth His intention.

God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until
God moves to lift the veil
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life’s stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God’s thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.

Wood, twisting iron, wresting  
Incumbent wind of an idiom.
Nomenclature learned in
Direct proportion to the
Clicking of clavichords, the
Harmonics of harpsichords, the
Iconoclastic rather than
Memes which disavow the
Etherial. For a breath of air is
S*pirit. Striking the bells of the *SOUL.

SøułSurvivør
(C) 4/19/2017

I hope you find it brave girl
i hope you find someone that does more than embrace your flaws
no, i hope you find someone that colors outside your lines
someone that sees your rough edges and jigsaws themselves to fit into you
i hope that you find that brave girl
i hope you are loved like you deserve

they told me that
i am a pessimist
that i should wear
my positive hat
and not think of malice.

i am very sure that
every pessimist
were once an optimist.

they went through
things that made them
lose hope
and lose their courage
to bravely trust and believe
again.

from the tiniest bit of betrayal
to the biggest act of treason.

i believe no one is born a pessimist.
they were all once, optimists.

hope may be a superficial belief
but it's not as fake as you think it is.

there's a lot of questions
regarding my heart
that remained unanswered.

is it made of fragile glass
or strong diamond?

is it fixable?
hammering nails
and drilling screws in
or we just glue it all back together?

what colour is my heart?
definitely not white.
is it red?
jet black?
or merely grey?

is it beating
or maybe sound i've been hearing
were the marching parade
to respect the death of my heart?

is it broken
or it was never complete?
but then *if it's broken, how can it still beat?