On Writing & Thoughts

To the dearest person reading this,

It's been awhile since the last post. I'll honestly diagnose myself as a perfectionist sort-of writer/person, I've a ton of drafts and half written poems which have not seen daylight. This is something that I've always had to deal with in all areas of my life, especially when it comes to writing.

Perfectionism, a refusal to accept any standard short of perfection.

Why so hell bent on being perfect when there's really no such thing. Perfectionism is only a state of mind and of course an opinion of oneself's work. It represents a never-ending torment of strife to mask the truest nature with a facade of eloquence of words, or should I say the apprehensiveness of showing your weaknesses and to make yourself bigger than who you really are.

Of course, all this being a conversation within our-self.

And everyone says: I've lost you here.

So what is this all about. It's about showing authenticity. It's about revealing the truth of your own persona. The underlying point: Weaknesses

Embrace it. Weakness isn't a curse word.
It's an opportunity to grow. It's an opportunity to connect. It's an opportunity to know that there's a strength that perfectly compliments your weakness. It's an opportunity to know that you are loved for who you are. It's an opportunity to live life to the fullest.

You have hope.
You are accepted.
You are beautiful.
You are loved.

Stop the facade, start life.

I'll give it my all, why?

Because of one that the world will die,

and through another that the world will live,

Because of our sins that on the cross he laid to die,

that through his blood, eternally will I live,

Because of his grace that I will not shy,

and all of my heart to him I will give,

Because of his hope that will never run dry,

that I will never stop to believe,

Because of his love that is as vast as the sky,

and to this it fuels my life's motive,

Because he gave it all up for me,
I will give my all back to him.

Grief

Broken like glass it started to shatter,

Thoughts going about looking for an answer,

Of how and why things could ever transpire,

In such a way that felt like a nightmare.

The lingering thought caused my heart to grow tighter, 

Couldn't breath. Couldn't grieve. The atmosphere turned darker,

The way out was blocked by an unseen boulder,

Succumbing to the darkness of pain, the heart is losing it's glimmer.  

Looking towards the great altar,

Seeking the only Healer,

That can take out this feeling, so bitter. 

Note:
*This was written on my dad's passing*