The Madness that is Pain and Pleasure

There are dreams the world will never see

An endless cavern of lost hopes and fruitless pursuits

But as I wander through their possibilities

I wonder what the world would be

If every dream came true

Would it be this paradise

We praise within our minds?

Or would we find a hell on earth

Doomed to be our life?

Does every word become a poem?

Does every note become a song?

Not every dream finds existence

Not every wish becomes a memory.

What is it about this feeble race of men?

We yearn, we cry, we crave, we think we know,

But in the end–so often does it happen–

Our dreams become our nightmares

And we realise we know nothing

Of the madness that is pain and pleasure.

Does ice not burn the skin

When left there over time?

Does surgery not bring both cure and agony?

Not every pain is meant to be destructive

Not every pleasure made to be enjoyed

But this does not make all dreaming fruitless

Nor leave all hopes destined for a grave,

But as the shadow needs the sun

So darkness finds its absence

In the presence of bright dreams come true

And even in the darkness Shines a Light

For He is the one who touches every shadow,

And whose love crosses all despair

He is the maker of all true desires

And the bringer of hope to all the world.

For in Him all darkness becomes as day,

And every day is like the sun

In Him are selfish dreams exposed and left to die

And every darkest hour

Finds heavenly hopes are won.

Real Life Parables: In Memory of the Girl With No Name

I can still see her face. It haunts me at night sometimes when my mind wanders and I can’t quite go to sleep. I remember how I wiped the blood from her face and she groaned in pain. She was so small. She was so young. She still had so much life left to live, but whether she did or not, perhaps I’ll never really know. If she did survive all that she had to undergo, her life would never be the same.

“You never know when your time will come”

That phrase has never meant more to me than after the day I saw her.

I only saw her, sat with her, for a few minutes, minutes which mean little to nothing when compared to the vastness of time, but mean everything when compared to endless hours of joy and happiness that she will probably never know again.

Her grandmother walked beside her as she hopped and skipped down the street. That playfulness of spirit can only exist in little children. So full of hope. So full of dreams and possibilities. I often wonder exactly what game she was playing, and what pictures filled her endless imagination. I could see them both from across the street amidst the laughing and talking with my friends. We couldn’t have known–neither could they–that the second I glanced down and the second her grandmother didn’t see, there was something speeding around the corner of the street.

A noise.

A crash.

A scream.

And that was it.

She would never be the same.

We went over to help, but what do you do, and what can you say?

I remember perfectly the pain etched upon her grandmother’s face. The horror. The scar inside her that might never heal. She clutched the little girl to her chest and wailed, and frantically tried to comfort the shattered frame in her arms.

We tried to help. We placed her down upon someone’s backpack to keep her neck and head upright. Her eyes rolled back into her broken head and all I could do was wipe the blood off her face. Oh, God, I remember it all so perfectly.

How do you look all the terrible things on this earth and still have tears to cry? How do you live each day knowing that any moment could change your world forever? Any day could be your last, or the last of someone you love. Oh, God, help me to live a life prepared for whatever will happen in each day. May I live a life broken for the things that break your heart and a fire that burns with a love for all the souls you’ve made.

My friends and I were across the street from where it happened and yet I can still feel the shock of grief and the cries of help lifted to heaven for a little girl who changed my perspective of life forever.

Does she still live? I’m not sure.

If she is, does she still have dreams, can she still imagine? I don’t know.

My heart weeps for her, though I never even knew her name.

When the Soul is Downtrodden

The heart feels things that cannot be spoken.

The mind perceives what makes me heartbroken.

The body feels pain when the Soul is Downtrodden.

Yet the weight of the world was laid upon one person.

My heart,  my soul,  my mind,  my strength,

Are cradled in Mercy and made whole under Grace.

 

Note:  Sometimes life is hard and we have deep hurt inside.   Those are times we need to remember the Lord and look to Him for help.  🙂

Would You?

If I sold a book, would you read it?
If I made you a poem, would you care?
If I wept as I sang
For all that you meant
Would it settle on your ears
or on deaf ones?
If I traveled the oceans,  would you be there?
If I traversed o’er mountains,  would you care?
If my feet bled from walking
Just to tell you I love you
Would it touch your heart,
Or don’t you have one?
If I spoke all my secrets,  would you listen?
If I told you all answers,  would you care?
If my throat closed from speaking
All the blessings of heaven
Would it lead you to peace,
Or would you hate me?
If I wept for your soul,  would it matter?
If I prayed for salvation,  would you care?
If I bled and I died,
Just to keep you from hell,
Would you take what I offered,
Or reject me?

Would You?