There is so much uncertainty in this world. How can one possibly hold onto the things they love when so much is unknown? How can someone keep hope in comfort of present things? I have found it increasingly difficult more and more as I go through life and it's trials to know and to have faith that things will be okay or remain okay. Every broken relationship, every sudden loss, and even every tragic passing leaves me steadily diminished in my solace of trusting the promises made to me. Where some people would say that such situations should make me grateful for the life I have, I can't help but to have anxiety for it coming full circle back to me. I don't understand it, I am completely baffled as to why I assume the worst for myself, why I conclude that the same things will happen to me. Maybe it's because I am afraid to face myself and scared of being comfortable for fear of becoming numb. Being comfortable seems to require no thought and for me that is hard as I am always in thought. But there is still hope, there is still immense moments where the thoughts silence and peace abounds. That peace that only God above can provide, and gracefully it can be found when I am in the presence of the person He has put in my life. I have witnessed first hand the power poured out through Samantha into my life, the times where she knows exactly what say, the comfort that cuts straight through my thoughts and surrounds my heart with peace, and the numerous and undying times she is there for me. Such moments can only be described as moments where God continually demonstrates how I can continues to face this world with the hope of certainty.
My anxious heart collapsed beside the grave of whom I loved the most in this life. Why do I have to wait for that sun to set and relive the horrors of what I hoped died so long ago? 


Hope Of Certainty

Oh god what have I done? The pains I feared the most have appeared in my hands again. I have failed you and the one you gave to set me free. This incompetence has ushered in the final blow that will harness the loss of hope in my eyes. I am on my knees begging you why? Why must I feel the warmth of her touch fade from my very hands? Why have I been given such joy only to see it die by my very blade? I have set ablaze the foundations to all that I loved because of the fear of it crashing down, I worried over things that could have never happened. But alas, my own fear conjured fear and it became my reality. In one fell swoop I have lost every ounce of what I loved in my heart by the arms of my twisted mind. If there is purpose in this life, why must mine be that of the damned? Why must I see time and time again myself put to rest what I needed the most? There is no hope in this, I long to see her smile again. I long to hear the comfort of her words once more. I long to see your light shine through from her. But how can I hope for her return if I was the one who made her run? I see redemption in this fairytale displayed in my heart, the chance to make amends and right my wrongs. But I can't help but to hesitate to write that tale, if I am to be redeemed will I hurt her all the same again? Will I burn the lands of what we make again and again? Will I have to see the pain on her face when I begin to fail? I am torn between being eternally damned for my crimes and saving her the pain, or being restored for my ways and saving my faith. The days weep for my soul and the nights lie to give me hope. My dreams say that she is not away and I awake with gladness that I can't explain. But I suddenly realize that it's just a ghost, and like a child I describe to myself the damage my love had on her. I have to illustrate every morning the reason as to why she abandoned this place. I have to kill my heart each and every sunrise, and yet still struggle to muster hope and trust that there is a way. If there is a way, don't let me know. Lead me to the cycle of unending torment, for at least I'll know as I close my eyes to this pain. That she is free and happy, in the release of my dismay.

Prayer Of Dismay

There is a fire burning deep within me, ready to consume this world with a vengeful malice. Everywhere I turn to look I see regrets of history played out by my hands. The flames of self inflicted deprecation dance through my mind of constructed misery. This gauntlet of woe commences at the dawn of my first wake. My eyes open and my thoughts are then broken, pictures of hate, pain, loss, and suffering portray to my heart what I see of myself. I see a noose swinging round and round containing the silhouette of I. Well, swing low sweet chariot and pray that my feet can reach the ground. I cannot explain why I have marked myself to blame, why I have chosen to believe that there can be no happy negotiation of this hostage situation. I do not see why I continue to turn it on myself and proclaim that this is my purpose in life. Have I been made to be the example of how not to live? Am I just the mannequin set to demonstrate the limits of what the mind can take propped up in the firing range of this life’s full hate? Parts of me wish that it were true, that by my suffering and perishing, the ones I love would see the answers of happiness in my remains. I see the images of a ghoul, the anguish of a fool, and the body face down in a pool. Is that vision me? The choices I’ve made brand my face and cripple my embrace, I will always see the blood on this canvas made in white. I will always hear deaths call on the tip of every ledge, and I will struggle to ignore my name when its called to collapse into my own grave. These thoughts are such diluted pains, and the purest of my toils left me drowning out in the rain. You said that we were free from the chains of this life, that bondage was broken as your hands tore open. Why do I prefer the imitation warmth found in the shackles of my dismay? The warmth that scars more than it burns, the needles that pierce rather than stitch. I am left in a daze, wondering if these are the end of my days. But yet I can see the horizon against the grain, I can see the light shining through shade’s domain. There sits the outline of a promise made to me, the blueprints of what I was made to see. Redemption lies within the pain, and progress can only be made if there was a time when everything was taken away. And so broken, beaten, and surpassed in hate, I can see the beauty of getting another shot. I can feel the impact of my heart bursting through the walls of insanity, I can hear the voice of reason and grace screaming run to me. Oh how I run, tears streaming down my face, can it be? Can it truly mean the end of a life spent conjuring doubt? I am laughing and yelling out, “I made it Lord, I made you proud!” My chest races with excitement that I will see my reflection once more, that I can smile in the light of joy and hope. Fade out, black out. My eyes struggle to perceive this cloud, my lungs can no longer fill their cups, my movements swing to and fro. Swing low sweet chariot, my feet never touched the ground.

Silhouette Of I

Floating helplessly above these lofty coasts, I drift into the place of where I have heard your ghost
My thoughts spill out in circles never completing themselves, and pictures of the tattered cliffs from where the tide swells
How will I see your face if I can hardly speak your name? I resist the kiss of the waves crashing through my head and I begin to sigh in vain.
And so I float propelled by the hope of coming on to solid ground, let the current sweep me asunder to where I am bound.

You see I choose to drift this way, it's something I think we all need to be.
We are all in one way lost and out at sea, whether swimming in our hearts or drowning in our thoughts.
The lungs take on more polluted water than air and we all may struggle to grow our gills. 
But don't lose sight of that cove you were always told about. The one you hope can save you from this doubt.
The place that dwells deep inside a peace unlike any else, nestled in grace made of pure white shells.
My arms may grow tired and my legs will probably give out, I know this to be true. I know this to be true.
I may sink down to depths, and the surface will be out my reach, there'll be nothing left for me to do. 
But that's okay, it's okay, I'll be okay. The light still shines down through the mire and points the way even after my lungs give out.
Float on, float on, it's all that I can do.
Drift along, drift along, there's nothing left to do.

Drift Along

Floating helplessly above these lofty coasts, I drift into the place of where I have heard your ghost
My thoughts spill out in circles never completing themselves, and pictures of the tattered cliffs from where the tide swells
How will I see your face if I can hardly speak your name? I resist the kiss of the waves crashing through my head and I begin to sigh in vain.
And so I float propelled by the hope of coming on to solid ground, let the current sweep me asunder to where I am bound.

You see I choose to drift this way, it's something I think we all need to be.
We are all in one way lost and out at sea, whether swimming in our hearts or drowning in our thoughts.
The lungs take on more polluted water than air and we all may struggle to grow our gills. 
But don't lose sight of that cove you were always told about. The one you hope can save you from this doubt.
The place that dwells deep inside a peace unlike any else, nestled in grace made of pure white shells.
My arms may grow tired and my legs will probably give out, I know this to be true. I know this to be true.
I may sink down to depths, and the surface will be out my reach, there'll be nothing left for me to do. 
But that's okay, it's okay, I'll be okay. The light still shines down through the mire and points the way even after my lungs give out.
Float on, float on, it's all that I can do.
Drift along, drift along, there's nothing left to do.


Sink
Into 
The
Loneliest abyss
Drown
In
A
Pool of hopelessness
Find
A way
To
Breathe once more
Learn
That this
Is part
Of finding love

Drift Along (Extended)

A series of prayers about our lives set to music.

brokenprayers