The waves are crashing.  It’s constant.

And the storm isn’t breaking. And the world seems redundant.

I pick up a pen in order to gain confidence. Through writing, through words I feel life may be important. 

It’s the words that I write that keep me alive.  Gives life the ability to survive and revive when in need.

I perceive what I find in the voice of my mind that which creates and rejuvenates my time—a sense of me, my life, of which, at times, I can’t find.

But I try; let me tell you, I try.

And those waves that roll over me and tear me apart help me sense what I need and what I’ve wanted from the start.

To believe what I’ve conceived from just a single touch of God is remarkably unimaginable, yet remarkably so. 

I go out, I set forth, towards the Kingdom of God we go.

For thine is the Kingdom of which we all know.

Past the waves of regret and despair with little content for what we’ve come to bear.

We try, and we try, but we realize we get nowhere.

The question remains:

Can we go about living as if every path we try to detain?

God tells us, “Yes,” and he gives us his hands.

Pulls us out of the water at the moment that we just can’t.

That’s what makes us stronger.

Our perceptions can stay the same.

But we were given the gift of life.

And we should learn to appreciate those waves.