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 8 Oct 2006 @ 22:50
Cartemay was a wicked king in the days when our world came under vicious attack by beasts from another realm. The king turned from his evil ways and rallied the nations in time to help tens of thousands to safety just before two thirds of the remaining lands fell into the sea. Because of this act of bravery and selflessness he was chosen as a Watchman over the nations.
The Earth's danger never passed. The enemy only went into hiding, abiding their time until they were strong enough to strike again. The destruction of our world was vital to their plans to retake their own celestial realm. Their Spell Weavers hung shroud-like enchantments, slung from the sky like spiders' webs of oppression.
These webs were cruel, filled with dellusions causing humans to be filled with bitterness and envy, leading to wars and broken families. Here in this picture Cartemay passes between heaven and earth to study the spell's devices. When he reappears amidst flames and shock waves, the spell is broken.
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 16 Aug 2006 @ 23:23
We are not taught to question, "why?" We are taught to stop asking questions so that our exasperated parents can finish fixing lunch. "Will you stop asking so many questions...run along and play with your toys!"
"Why?" is in our hearts at birth, and whenever we slow down, "Why?" creeps back into our minds.
Some people are afraid of "Why?" They run from it and try to stamp it out, fearing they won't like the answer. However, if this question was stamped on our hearts, I believe it is like a treasure that calls to our spirit, "Come and find me...I am here!"
N Marion More >
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 16 Aug 2006 @ 23:16
I love photography because it forces me to look at my surroundings. Sometimes I'll miss an obvious vista because my mind was engaged in worries or thoughts about less vital things.
Sometimes I'll write what I call, "Conventional Wisdom" pieces. Contrast is about a realization that if we only had good experiences we'd likely take them all for granted. If we were only loved we would never appreciate faithfulness and loyalty as much. We might tell ourselves different except for the fact that spoiled people are often that way because they never endured want or hardship and could never put theirselves in someone else's shoes.
I don't ask for pain, or rejection. I don't want anguish of soul or perplexity. Yet, I've learned to value difficult times, and realize these are opportunities for growth. Life is filled with contrast. At first it seems a contradiction, but in time it becomes a thing of beauty. More >
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 16 Aug 2006 @ 23:09
This poem and photo express a heartfelt sentiment that dreams for what we can accomplish in this life are vital. When we were children our dreams were big. Then reality set in (or so we were told)and we grow up. After buying into this lie that we'll never do anything important, if we are most fortunate, we come to the realization that our big dreams were never foolish or childish to begin with. Instead of giving up hope that we can accomplish great things in life, we should come to expect this should be the norm and we should aspire to no less.
N Marion More >
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 22 Jul 2006 @ 16:34
In your shadow
He grew into a shade tree set by a beautiful hill. His limbs filled with flittering birds and squirrels nested in his trunk. A giver of life was he until the hill grew ever bigger, exploding into a mountain. His thoughts grew less important as her needs and agendas enlarged, eclipsing his own. He became small, a withered seedling that finally crumpled and crawled back into the earth to remain unseen.
Sons
Awakened from fertile womb, you both crawled into my life. Before you walked, I slipped into your rooms at night to listen to you breathe, pressing my ear to your hearts, saying a swift prayer. Your perpetual-motion-bodies stilled by exhaustion, I could finally hold you and whisper my dreams in your ears.
You both sprouted wheels for legs and wings for imaginations, zooming in and out of the forests to climb, find, and build your precious forts. From a nearby hill I looked down on your play, listening to your banter, forever watchful for your safety. I enjoyed the madness of your youthful bounding.
Then your friends grew up and got cars, whisking you away to this or that magical place, exploring the world with renewed wonderment. I watched from the window curtain, curious if this or that young woman would be “the one”. Your mother and I would laugh, wondering who would gather at the Thanksgiving table.
Soon your diapers turned to diplomas, and you both walked the isles to receive your licenses to work, to become adults, and you disappeared without warning. I miss you both, but I’ve got a workroom now.
Abiding in Stale Air
Exhaust fumes, sweltering heat cause asthmatics to gasp for air. Fragrant flowers are gone, replaced by many concrete overpasses, crumbling mortar, and rusting steel roadways lined with graffiti. Still a butterfly alights on a flowerpot by the intersection, seemingly content to be alive.
Life
Disrespectful looks and terse commentaries crush these brittle bones. Wagging fingers swung by malicious gossipers pronounce my premature eulogy. Some days I lick my wounds and walk away. Other days I become a contentious beast that replies to their accusations with words of fury. Still, life goes on within and without; and the backyard still needs mowing.
Love
If I pour out my life for you, will that elevate me in your sight or make me seem a pathetic fool, weak and stupid? If I lay down my body as your bridge to elevation, so that you can reach your pinnacle, will you respect me as being kind; or will you wonder if I’ve grown impotent, becoming a passé conversation piece? Love as I express it and as you see it may not align. Communication is the most difficult art; and I have no idea how to fashion my feelings into words and actions that translate. I can only try and hope my heart’s attempt will become an arrow that finds its target. Perhaps God alone sees and the rest of the world misunderstands me or thinks I’m a dimwitted loser. Or are they right and I’m wrong? More >
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