On The Verge of Chaos

I finally was able to finish this. I started it well over a month ago, but never knew the ending until now. Just finished it a few minutes ago and thought I'd post it up here right away :) Comments and thoughts are indeed welcomed. Enjoy.

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On The Verge of Chaos

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            Life is to my left; Death to my right. I stand in the center of the bridge between. Written in the stone of the bridge is "Choice". And so I choose. Standing on the verge of Chaos, on the edge of Choice, I watch the calm abyss before my feet.

Close my eyes. Step out.

Fall. Or am I floating? Calm. No wind; no sound. I look around and find simple Nothingness. The bridge has vanished. Had it ever been? Choice is always, is it not? But what choice is there in Nothingness?

Close my eyes. Open them. No difference. Why should there be? How can there be? In the Black. Am I sleeping? Dreaming? What is Reality?

Luminescent silver tendrils appear around my feet, writhing upward. Twirl around my body. A lithe energy gently pulses into me, radiating from the cords of light. I feel it guide me through the Nothingness. To where? Is there purpose?

My feet softly press against a surface. A small circular platform. The tendrils fade, but the warmth remains. I feel awake, but I can't be sure.

Slowly, ethereal scenes appear before me. Around me. I know them. Recognize them. Remember. So they are memories... fond memories.

Of how I learned to swim: I had a dream that I could swim. So I swam. Of the time I left home while my dog was so sick. I prayed and knew one day he was healed. It was a Wednesday. A few days later I was told he was better. It happened on Wednesday. Of my first personal encounter with God. He smiled. Too bright to be seen, but the warmth filled my being as I felt it in my bones.

These images were faint, yet somehow vivid. They were truths that I had forgotten. The Faith I knew as a child. Long ago.

Lost.

Where could it have gone? How could I have lost it? That faith was me. Without it what have I become?

Lost.

More scenes appear. More memories. These are almost as faded. But they are happy. These are memories that had brought joy. Simple joy.

Of Christmas mornings and hot chocolate. Of new friends and old jokes. Of delicious phalanges and artichokes. Of fresh brownies and pomegranates. Of games and vampires. Of being welcomed home to my Secret Place by the closest friend I've had.

Some I had forgotten, some I clung onto. These as well dissolve into the Nothingness. New images appear. Most vivid of all. Most painful. These I knew immediately. Regrets. Too many.

Of betraying a good and close friend. Of lies and mistakes. Of sin. Of sorrow. Of cycles. Of the consistent and unmoving effects of each. Even to the present.

Self loathing.

Red streams slither out from the images, slipping around my arms. Pull me in. Warmth seeps from my skin. Chaos comes. A tumult of emotion and memories and knowledge spirals out, erupting into the madness of my mind. My feet come to the edge of the platform. On the verge of Chaos.

I am weak. So weak. Loathing. What can I do?

Dozens of images tremble into existence around me. Spiraling, twisting, spinning, darting about. Good and bad. Love and loss. The Scar of Time rips open and bleeds memories as if scorning my existence. Many of joy beget sorrow for the fact they are no more. Never again. Many because of me.

Regrets. Pull me in.

Pull me in. Let me disappear. No more regrets. No more sorrows. Just Nothingness. Too much Chaos. I can't do this.

Too much.

Can I escape? Do I want to? Why should I? Cold. Alone. I deserve as much. I deserve worse. But I know this. This cycle. I've been here too often not to know.

I do know. This is not the End.

I don't want to disappear. But what can I do?

Remember.

Remember what?

Remember. Those memories I lost. That faith I once was. Hope. Truth. Remember Jesus. Remember.

I remember. I must remember.

Jesus. The unsurpassable Mercy. The overwhelming Love. Forgiveness. Compassion. Life.

Peace.

The images disappear. A light begins to grow. I look down and find a scar on my chest, brilliant green and gold rays seeping out. It begins to burn and spread through my veins, consuming my being. Soon the scorching energy begins to turn to electricity. Erupting from the scar, green and gold light fills my vision nearly blinding me. Searing me to the edge of unbearable, the burning begins to fade.

My eyes close and I feel rain pouring gently over me. I open my eyes and look up through the tear-drops and see vividly in each drop the word “Mercy”. The pain lessens with each drop, replaced with Peace.

I look down and see red and black tendrils slipping down my arms onto the platform. Only the green and gold threads remain thinly, but strongly surrounding me. Lifting my head once more, I find before me what can only be described as a Tower of Light. Pure and bright beyond measure. Simply looking up at this vision invigorates my spirit with Strength and Hope.

A soft yet firm voice comes to me. I can hear it both from within my mind and spirit as well as outwardly as it resounds around me.

"Do not give up."

New Old Stuff: Part 2 - Spontaneous Thoughts on a Thing Called Life

Here's another old post that I've needed to take a look at on numerous occasions even well after I wrote it myself.


This piece was written in a flurry of logical thought regardless of emotional interference. A simple message of wisdom I felt should be shared and as well I am needing to recall this to mind often as of late for it seems I am doing precisely what I warned not to do. I am at a time of necessary growth in my life and this is part of the first steps I've been needing to work on. And in fact, my next piece has a focus on change, choice, and a past to future theme, however in the more 'creative' format. I hope to be finishing that one soon enough, but for now...


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Spontaneous Thoughts on a Thing Called Life
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My many many many many many many many many many many many many many many lots of mistakes have taught me much in life. I asked for wisdom. I did not, however, specify the means in which I would have liked to receive said wisdom. Failing is a part of life. It is in how we look back on those failures which reveals the level of maturity and growth in ourselves. Do we learn from them and move on? Or do we wallow in our regrets of the past and stubbornly remain stagnant in our painfully foolish efforts of refusing to grow? I say this in a weak measure of experience that only continues to profess my express need for Wisdom. I can only assume that I shall fail all the more in my search for such a valued thing. Yet I welcome those fallings-short with the faint, but present, thought of how much I may yet succeed thereafter with the knowledge gained in experiences both pleasant and unpleasant alike. To fear failure and thus keep passive in life is a failure in itself. How can you learn and grow in the outside world when you refuse to open a door? To step away from the comfort of enclosed places which only babes and infants still desire? Mistakes made take their toll in solemn regret, but to let such a weak piece of history control the heart, from which all true actions proceed, is folly. Spin the failings of the past to a strength that becomes a part of who you are. To declare that you will constantly strive to exceed yourself, becoming a limitless possibility of being better than yourself. But not for yourself. To be better for the sake of those closest to your heart, as well as the constant sea of people that sift around you. 

New Old Stuff: Part 1 - Some Say it Rains

Sorry I haven't had any new nonsense to post... Started working on another creative short a while ago, but I haven't been able to finish it just yet. So to fill the time gap a bit, I thought I'd add some old posts I had up on facebook that I've been needing to reread a few times lately... So here you go.

This was written in two parts at a point in time where I had a lot of depression and sorrow and really needed something to lift my spirit. The writing style in the latter half was spontaneously inspired by Bradley Hathaway, a poetic artist who uses music in effect to words without song. I'm keeping it as I first posted it, all jumbled together, because that was how it was written and how my mind can be - chaos yet with my own order and trail of thought.

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Some Say it Rains
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Here in the desert rain fails to fall. It is dry and dead. As am I. But then comes along the occasional downpour. Unfortunately, my metaphorical downpour in my heart is not one of fruitfulness and regrowth. In this barren wasteland, the ground doesn't absorb the water and so it simply fills up and floods. That's me. Drowning in a pool of failed dreams, impossible wishes, ancient regrets, and the absolute joy of moments long past that last but a moment before washed away by the intruding, pounding, unrelenting thought that those are but memories never to return. Family members left long behind. Friends forgotten. A heart of excessive sorrow beating ever so slowly only because it must. A desperate leap at life grasping at the last speck of hopes shattered. Time heals all wounds? I laugh quietly inside myself at the irony of such a preposterous thought. It is Time's rigid blade that created these scars. My empty blood-pumping organ inside my chest screams for the One to come and wash it with the tears of understanding and compassion that heal all scars no matter how deep and ugly and bloody. This soul of mine cries out to be renewed, restored, once again flying high, soaring with bountiful laughter and joy that wipes clean the history of doubt and pain. Lord of Life, come sing over me. Prince of Peace, come calm my weary being. God of Grace, hold me in Your arms of impossible love and carry me away to that secret place where no sadness can exist, no pain is present, sorrow is not permitted to enter with You and me there. Holy Spirit, overwhelm me with Your overwhelming peace. Let me jump into the waterfall of Your presence and overflow with pure love and joy unfelt to such an immeasurable extent before by me. Then strengthen my being, let me start seeing the face of the One who is Your Son, and let my identity become true as it can only be in You that I am me. Clothe me in Your righteousness and gird me in Your truth. My love will not be quenched, my faith will not be broken. To the edge of existence I will stand strong, but never alone no matter where my path may lead me, You will never leave me even to the depths of Sheol to the heights of Heaven, I will always choose to believe and not try to conceive any thought that You are not who You say You are. My righteousness will shine like the sun because You are the One whom it all comes from. My scars will be there, but only to share of how I will bear the truth that the Father's Son came down for one who is unworthy, filthy, and dirty, yet He shed red for me and I can truly sing of how Your love has captivated me. Not one tear You have forgot, not one scrape You will ignore for You care and Your eyes stare with the blazing flames of jealous zeal for Your son in which You see a prince whilst I yet see a bleeding mess in my chaotic thought of life and loss, but You do not give up, never lose hope that I may one day become the king you made me to be and rule and reign over celestial beings and heavenly things with You. Father, set my heart ablaze and renew the fire to love as You do. Bring to my mind greater knowledge of You. Open my soul to peace anew. Because I truly do love You.