“I yearn to live and love and burn, and yet so much of my time is spent faking and forgetting, faking and forgetting… I carry out my disbelief with uninspired hands, my eyes shut, my emotions dulled, my spirit numb. In times like these I am in desperate need of truth to come to me like a blinding light, like a splinter in my soul, reminding me of the brevity of my time here on earth.”
—Jon Foreman (via these-are-my-vice-verses)
January 2012
New year
Push away the dark trendils of my mind. Let Light into this dark soul of mine. May I forever be overwhelmed with your goodness and power, instead of allowing my own evil to corrupt me. This year has been hard, but I am so thankful for it. I have seen the glory of God burn bright through all this gloom. A new year, another chance to see His power. Time to let go of the struggles of the past year, and breathe fresh life into everything. My love burns bright, it has stood the test of another year and will flourish and grow in this one.
December 2011
“Darkness cannot cast out darkness. You need a light for that. Fear cannot cast out fear. You’re gonna need hope for that… death warrants more death. But I believe life wants more life and I’m convinced that the greatest weapon we’ve got is LOVE! And maybe, in a world full of fighters, in a world imploding with hate, maybe to be a lover, you gotta be a fighter. Maybe that’s the biggest fight, the only fight worth fighting, the fight you’re gonna be in for the rest of your life.”
—
Jon Foreman (via kilamonstahh)
love him so much, he is seriously one of my fav people on planet earth
festival of lights
The trees have long been here with me
Their growth a vivid reminder of years gone by,
Boughs reaching, curling barren towards the pallid winter sky,
Chasing light as from the expanse it flees.
Where does the light go, in this world of gray?
Forever searching for the blinding light,
But only catching shadows and glimmers in sight.
The flicker is hidden within a cave, a dark sea-washed cay.
Christmas, the season of the festival of lights
Homes wreathed, eves dripping with a million lights aglow
Darkness encroaches, unanswered questions, hope they do not know
But still seeking for light, the secret we cannot fight.
Sometimes the way the light casts, a memory gone,
Childhood, or a moment, the aura cannot be rediscovered
Deep inside, a desire for illumination is recovered
A Light, a light that shines which the dark has not won.
“Sometimes, when the light strikes at odd angles
and pulls you back into childhood
and you are passing a crumbling mansion
completely hidden behind old willows
or an empty convent guarded by hemlocks
and giant firs standing hip to hip,
you know again that behind that wall,
under the uncut hair of the willows
something secret is going on,
so marvelous and dangerous
that if you crawled through and saw,
you would die, or be happy forever.” —Sometimes, When the Light by Lisel Mueller (via growing-orbits)
and pulls you back into childhood
and you are passing a crumbling mansion
completely hidden behind old willows
or an empty convent guarded by hemlocks
and giant firs standing hip to hip,
you know again that behind that wall,
under the uncut hair of the willows
something secret is going on,
so marvelous and dangerous
that if you crawled through and saw,
you would die, or be happy forever.” —Sometimes, When the Light by Lisel Mueller (via growing-orbits)
