Amazing

                             And to think, once upon a time I was empty. I am still empty though I can find so much beauty in silence. In silence I find myself, is that strange? Why must one fill the air with meaningless sounds when I already hear  amazing music in my mind? All around me are familiar faces, it doesn't mean I have to recognize verbally that I see them though.

What Now

             What shall I do now, as another dream of mine shatters? I thought and hoped but then I had to let it go into the dust. I once thought anything could be, but then I have to listen to myself, and I had to shut my soul down for the sake of the body it inhabits. My ramblings seem to make no sense, don't they? I just need to feel that no one knows my name and that I can vent in blissful anonymity. I see things, in a book I can see everything the author does not. When in history I know why things happen, I can see things repeating. Please tell me, is this normal?

Why?

        Every time people die because of the choices of others I end p crying. God save those people, and I pray they are in a better place now. How can people be so selfish as to take what they haven't even the right to touch? It is not our place to judge what is right or not, but God's. How can we even begin to understand the ways of right and wrong, when we are still searching for truth in the first place????
Yes hurting, killing and stealing from another is unacceptable, but what of the grey areas?

Fears

                                        Yes how can one not have any fears, that of fire and ice? If one should end in peace and sorrow, or war and strife? What is one to know but nothing at all, because how can you know something for real, when all you know is what another tells is true? I know nothing, and I freely acknowledge the fact, in my ever quest for truth. But the real question is what is truth in the first place.

Strange dreams

                I keep having these really strange dreams, I wake feeling that I am missing something really important. With each dream I feel I am with a person that is important to me, and I wake up crying because I don't want to leave that person. I am a person who is constantly alone though, I find it hard to really talk to people except my really close friends. I don't know this person, I have no idea who it is. I have been praying to God and he has not given me answers yet though, even though this has been going on off and on for about a year now. People who gpo to my school either look at me with distaste or don't notice me at all. Who am I?

The Unnamed by A.N

However beleaguered,
Dim twilight remains
Those forgotten in the decline.
The dead left to bury their own remains,
Then walking back up to the sky.

These roads that they walked,
Ever trodden lightly, and then run into the ground.
The dreams like the doll lay abandoned in the snow.
Then burned by the desert heat below.
And wish you that the fire had never been set.
How though you, that you never forget.

None can remember, those names that lay discarded.
Nor those of the ones who walked away.
Regret for what was done,
All those who purposely were left
Unnamed

Snow

             It is so cold now, I wake in the morning shivering and hoping my cold doesn't get any worse. I am the first up, as I rise around four. Many people have asked me why this is so, to rise so much before the time the rest are even thinking about getting out of bed, and my answer always is that I rise then because that is when I feel like getting up. there is something satisfactory about getting up before even the sun, and also it gives me time in silence. at the moment I am praying for snow, whenever that will come.

Amanda by A.N

   Amanda, my name
a meaningless jumble of letters
It isn't me, no not in emptiness
Not in the form of the mind
I don't even know me, much less my name

Call me the wind, for it might know
Though this is the fact I doubt
it sees me, you see, hears every word
Including the many not said

I am lazy and neglectful
Arrogant and full of pride
Greedy and neglectful
and many more besides

I tear up for what I cannot help;
The people I cannot save,
the lives I cannot make better
though the power of the words swirling in my head

I tear at the slightest pressure
And never put in any trust
For I have lost it
Lost it too many times to be ever found again
I never ever let go
For what else do I have?

I pray to my Lord for forgiveness
and for understanding as well
But what is my name?
I still haven't figured that out

Holidays

                 As some of yo have gathered, I am a Christian. One thing that really irks me though is the fact that everyone skips over Thanksgiving and straight into Christmas, simply because they can make more money off of it.

My Father

              I love my dad, for all that he is gone most of the time. People in America often do not realise how their food and the other things they buy from the store get there. All most of them can do is complain of the semi trcks on the highway. My dad is a trucker, and  do not get my visiting time with him because he is working. I just wonder what would happen though, if all the trcks sddenly dissapeared. Where would we be then???

Truths

     And if I could wonder, where I really have been in the past 197 moons. Who am I, that others never see, the me that not even I know? It seems strange, that one who is real knows not even the fact that they speak in everlasting riddles, never to be true even to themselves. The only thing that I look for is truth, mayhaps it be the truth that none else seek. The truth in the stories that the conscious mind constantly makes, those that come from nowhere but from your truth. Your truth, the one that comes from you, that is there without any proving to be done---
                                                                   ----- A.C

Rain

                               People I know complain about the rain, for where I live it rains a lot. I however will stand in it, looking at the sky. Have you ever been at that crossroads, where you can't do anything but look at the sky in wonder because it is bigger than you can ever hope to be.
                                 It is hard to capture feelings in writing. People, classmates are always asking my about the fact that my art and writing always seems to mention rain and/or tears. The thing is I find truth in the rain, the water falling. The clouds cry you know, the rain is just their sorrow at what they cannot change about us. They and the sky see us always, see our cruelty and our hopes. It sees the good and bad in us, just as God can. For me rain is forgiveness, it washes those who need it clean. It wipes certain slates clean.
                     There was this book I read once. It was called Fearless by Tom Lott, I believe. I wept throughout the book, it was so amazing and sad at the same time. Well worth the read, I highly recommend it.

Why is it?

                 I can remember when I was little I would sit on the floor playing inside of my head. I had all these stories in there. Sometimes I could finish them, but most of the time they simply faded into my memory. Years later they would reappear, I still write down little bits so might I finish them when God lets me. Poetry has always been similar, Just a week ago I shared a piece in my English class, the room was absolutely silent in shock. Words are so beautiful.

Ravings

        What is it with such empty things? Each little thing in the world is made up the same things, the same basic bits, then why do we forget these things in the search of the something we think might satisfy our greed but never does.When are we going to stop trying to sell and learn to give? I am mortal, and face the same challanges that everyone else but I must admit I hold nothing close and stand apart from most because I find the trivial matters they worry over most annoying. I enjoy argueing over some things, enjoy bantering over the meanings of tales, how things lead to others and so on, again I plead I am mortal, and again I plead I do not understand myself

That song...

               I was listen to Mad World and I just broke down because of the truth of it. And I realized that most of us, as humans might not even know ourselves. Isnt it sad?