Forgetting Oneself

Whirl in the whirlwind,

Forging the highlands with sheets of brightest blue.

Nothing betraying,

Except the mind of the essential, hopeful new.

Withstanding the essence

or the understated brilliance within me;

I surrender and hope

for the wind to take me past free. 

Yelling for the masses to no one's ears

And letting the world's hope drown my fears.

Lost it? Find it. Be it, make it.

Lost in the money
Lost in the hate
Lost in the distant news

Find the hope
Find the time
Find the strength

Be a little different
Be a little greater
Be a little happier

Make it your duty
Make it your calling
Make it your life

The Rock

I was thinking about how the savior is the rock.
What is a rock? How is it formed?
Heat and Pressure. Worn smooth by brutal conditions.
That is an amazing symbol of the savior.
The atonement was the heat and the pressure.
He has already been through the refiner's fire,
And for all for us.
We are little stones that blow in the wind.
Look to the rock.
He knows what we go through.
He has been through it,
Through it all.

The Snow

What is clean as the driven snow,
Which lights the evenings with
All the night's reflected moonlight?

The lamb of God

Roped in

I stumble and fall
Freely off the edge,
Realizing I threw myself off.

I gasp as the wind flies past
Empty hope, empty soul
Faster  falling.

Then I realize I'm holding
A rope with a hook
And all I have to do is
Hook it onto me.

A click, and
"On Belay"
A jerk of pain
But amazingly,
My life is saved.

Holding on a Ledge

He does not just let go.
He doesn't roll like that.
He throws himself as far away
As he can from the rod.

Smugly thinking he knows
Better than God does.
He knows what makes
Him feel good.

He thinks that is all he needs.
Until the edge, the chasm
Is below him.

He slips and is now
Holding on a ledge
Crying for help in the blackness.

Finally humble enough
To see a hand reaching out
From the remnants of the light.

"Take hold of my hand,
Let go of the ledge,
I'll pull you back up"

A realization of the
Eternal insignificance
Of himself,
And the tender mercy
of the Savior.

A hand grasped,
A life brought back.

Somewhere

A life flies in contact,
An angel's hand holds mine
Looking at all the choices:
The good and the bad

Rejoicing with the good
Knowing the Savior can
Fix all the bad if I believe.

Agency

So strong, nothing faltering
So sure of staying strong.
A simple thought,
Embedded in their center:
What if?

Thinking too far in the present,
Too prideful to see their fall.

Their family is thrown to the wind
As they drop their lives behind
To follow a purpose that
They are stuck in, unable to live.

Blinded by fear of what would happen
If they opened their eyes to see
What they have done to themselves.

A trembling parent prays
With the force of someone destitute.

Nothing in return,
But a hand is still reaching out.

Born Again

The water ripples,
As he climbed out of his wheelchair
As his father supported him.

32 and the most courageous person
I have ever known.
Deathly afraid of the water.

He didn't have to do this,
But he needed to be born-
From the rise from the water

Consciously scared,
A voice from his father
"Are you sure about this?"

A determined voice:
"I need to dad"
A body immersed,

The spirit descends
On the small group watching.

We all swore we saw
An angel rise from the water
In his father's arms

His Love Triumphant

I love pictures.
But I love words more.

A thousand words is worth a picture,
But when all we have of the Savior
Is guesses I feel it is better to speak
Rather than to attempt to make our best guess.

I'd rather speak of him instead.
Speak of the miracles,
But even more of the unspoken example
That was given by the perfect exemplar.
His words captivate with the spirit,
His parables have layers of understanding
That make the smallest men taller
And the haughty humble.

He did everything to understand me,
And thats what I love most of all.

No Matter Where

My friend just returned from his LDS Mission.
The best two years.
The hardest two years.
The most rewarding two years

I turn in my papers later this month,
and plan to leave for two years in about 6 months.

I don't know where,
I don't know why I'll be called where I am.
I'm so excited to see the people.
Wherever.
Be it Utah or Africa.
I'll go and do the Lord's work.

Musings on What Could Be

What do you remember most?

I don't remember much anymore,

But the music, it helps me see beyond. 

Beyond what?

The veil.

What are you listening to?

Christmas music.

Why does that help?

It brings me closer to him.

Sacrament (Haikus)

The bread and water
Every week I must take
Forgiven again

The sacred Off'ring
Of His holy light within:
A healing power

Sacred covenant
Promising providence
In rememberance

Live His Love

To all those who are christians:
We are one body,
United under Christ.
Although we may believe differently,
Our core is the Savior:
The one who gave everything,
So that we may live again.

We cannot afford to hate.
We cannot afford to not love.
Love all,
Despise none.

Live his love.

Stolen Pages

Sprint away from fears.
That's what they always told me.
A little further,
And I would have.

I sit here in the in-between
Pondering the difference between
Truly there and not.

What, and where?

Can I get back to normal?
Tell me straight.

I cringe in preparation.
Waiting for the words
That would set me broken
On the page.

My face down to the ground,
A hand rests on my shoulder.
And a quiet voice comes saying:
"You've never gone too far"

A burden lifted,
A tear shed on both sides.
Home again finally.

Why There are a Lot of Posts to Follow

I often find that writing on paper is a lot easier than writing online. 

The next posts are snippets or full passages of things I have written in my own personal notebook that was created for this specific purpose.

This project is constantly finding new ways of challenging me. 

I don't want to be considered as just any other blog project.

I tried to put my soul into the words. 

And let the spirit do the rest.

Temples

I love the temples: They signify so much more than just any other building
They are the symbol of our faith.
The bridge to forever.
Beautiful.

I Love To See the Temple

Ode to The Temple

Arrayed in spotless white,

The saints,

Whose callused hands 

Built the very walls they are standing in.

Years over and over again.

Days chiseling the mountainside.

A tax well worth it.

An impossible beauty

On the destitute horizon.

Forever standing.

Forever making.