My hiding place

A heart you have stolen, with love boundless, free
A heart you have given, entrusted to me
A shelter you have made, for time of storms
Arms that hold fast, loving and warm
A guiding light you shine, to show the way home
My path to wholeness, no more to roam
A beacon of hope as bright as the sun
It shines in your eyes, outshone by none
And when the storms roll in, and home seems afar
You light up the night sky, as bright as the stars
And when life seems too hard, my head is hung low
My heavy heart is lifted, by the love you show
so in the storms, and in the rain
through all the tears, and all the pain
Through all the hard times, when hope seem afar
When all I can see, is the pain and the scars
I turn to you, my solace of life
To heal the hurt, and relieve the strife
A heart you have stolen, but left not unreplaced
A heart you have given, my hiding place


A poem-like thing I wrote a long time ago...decided to dust it off and post it somewhere for people to read

Black like sin

A tall, dark man in black wlaking down an empty street, his dark hat tilted back the wind swirling around his feet. He came down like a fallen angel from the city up above, where the mountain float like clouds and the waters touch the sun.

He looks at you with a glint in his eye and you can't help but feel like you could take off and fly, way up to the clouds and kiss the sky. He passes by. You watch him go, memories flood through your system with ease making it hard to breathe. You stand there frozen in time, unable to speak, but not sure why. Why is this fire coursing through your blood, burning like ice, drowning in a flood, head spinning, you want to turn and run but you can't.

Horror fills your thoughts, pouring over, pain tying your stomach in knots, fury and suffering, like fire burning too hot, all around, trapped in the sound, paralyzed by this new terror you have found. Where did the pleasure go? You just can't seem to find the feelings you used to know, not more than a moment or two ago. I wrote this for the one who has a dark sin hiding, their own personal demon, a man in black biding, striding deep through their heart. Never too far apart.

If you have secrets like we all do, hiding in our minds, running through, the system, must break free, nowhere left to run for you. Habits, choices, thoughts the man has many names, lust, hate, kill, rape, lie, abuse, their all the same. We must break free of the illusion and find God the solution to our madness and pollution. Got to run and find Him in the Son, can't hide, can't run, you've gotta face the truth soon, just like all other men, but the man in black will try to stop you because he hates you, my friend, you never know just how or when, must not let your heart become black like sin.


Something I've been writing for a while....I have 107 pages...this is page one

The lone man stands on the highest crest of the tall sand dune, surveying the vast desert in front of him, watching carefully as dune upon dune is beaten and whipped into submission by the high sun and scorching wind. Nothing but sand as far as they eye can see and beyond stretches out before him like an eternal sea of fire. Behind him lay the canyon-lands, an endless maze of sun-scorched and wind-withered passageways of grey, and brown, twisted rock. Winding and turning archways with enough paths to drive any man to madness amongst the treacherous cliffs, unless you know the way.
Wind howls across the expanse of dunes. A large dust storm can be seen on the far western horizon of the endless desert. The man uses his free hand to pull his cloak tighter around him and pulls up his mask-like veil across the bridge of his nose. From head to toe he is colored in brown to tannish, sand colored clothing, with a long, hooded robe as well. His mask reveals only his sharp, tireless eyes; eyes that miss nothing. Perched on his other fore-arm is his only companion, a small falcon with equally sharp eyes, also colored to blend in with the sand, as is every creature bred for the open desert.
“Tell me Guinn, what do you see?” The man speaks softly. The falcon looks up at him with the only gaze she can give, intense and fiercely intelligent. She opens her beak and chirps softly. The man’s eyes lift back to the open desert. Three days and still they have not come for him. It is only a matter of time, he knows. He turns and begins his slithering descent from the dune. The canyons have enough dangers to keep him busy in the meantime. He crests another dune, and works his way down its opposite face. He pauses for a moment, waiting, listening.