Month: April 2005


  • I know why few men decide chivalry is worth saving. Because, when you want it to matter most, no one gives a damn. I guess it will die with me; I’ve come too far to quit on it now. It is frustrating, though, that nearly every woman I call friend has told me, hell, my own sister has told me that I am the kind of man every woman should have. Yet, the number one reason I am turned down by every woman I have ever pursued save one is because “they don’t feel that they deserve me.” I am at a complete loss.


    No, Mystery Girl has not turned me down. Yet. I’m trying desperately to speak with her before school is out, but she has not yet found/made time to talk with me. All I ask for is 30 minutes so I can get some things off my chest. Then, I can sleep at night. Is 30 minutes too much to ask? I hope not. Otherwise I’ll have to speak quickly.


  • Mystery Girl spoke with me, briefly, today. There was a soft knock at my door, and there she was. She wanted to update me on a sort of medical concern she had looked at. Nothing huge, but I was so scared I was about to receive an “I have a brain tumor” talk that my heart was pounding audibly. But everything is fine. Phew. Then she had to leave. Drat.


    I still haven’t been able to talk to her. However, that short moment was wonderful, the first in over a week. My hopes are still low, though, that this will work out. But that is just me and my yet-to-be-wrong paranoia. I wish I’d lose a bet with myself some day, you know?



    “Is it so very odd that I seek a treasure that cannot be held, but only cherished? See gold not for its weight or look but merely its value? Cannot I prize a masterpiece not for its perfection, but for the sake of its Creator and the beauty the piece brings to my hall? Cannot I long for a lovely place not for its verdant pastures, cathedral forests, or golden flowers but because I feel at home there?”


    (Excerpt from a poem written 4/13/05)


  • (6/14/02)


    O! Love, you wonderfully


    Torturous thing! Take thy vile


    Caressing hand from off my heart,


    Cease your bloodless wounding of me,


    Stop this peaceful war and leave me to


    My silent screams, in quiet torment, for


    I know I have a thirst you refuse


    To quench for me, so I beg of you to


    Stop taunting me with water you


    Mean not for me to drink.


     


    This is getting tough. Sometimes I think there should be a Purple Heart for those in love.


  • The clouds broke for a moment


    Your golden light spilled over me like


    Holy water


    Curing me of all despair


    Washing away all doubt in


    The tides of your beauty.


    I had not realized how


    Cold I had been until I was


    Standing warm in the radiance of your


    Sight. to think that upon me you


    Looked! Of all things the sun could see,


    The things your fair, virescent eyes


    Would choose to gaze upon, of all things


    Created by God you looked upon


    Me! For that short cluster of heartbeats, one


    Tick of heaven’s timeless clock, the


    Rain stopped and there before me stood


    you, the rainbow I shall ever pursue,


    Chase ’til you’re in space, and I must


    Fly to reach you.


  • If the sun knew its own brightness,


    Would it shine brighter?


    If a flower knew its own scent,


    Would it smell sweeter?


    If a pear knew its own flavor,


    Would it taste yet more divine?


    If a violin knew its own voice,


    Would it sing more lovely than before?


    Oh if only you knew, without doubt,


    Your own beauty!


    Would you become more beautiful?


    If you saw yourself through my eyes


    You would stand before a glimpse of heaven.


    If you could inhale your breathe through my nostrils,


    You could run the length of time without stopping.


    If you could imagine your kiss on my tongue,


    No fruit, honey, candy, or drink would have any favor with you.


    If you could hear your voice in my ears,


    Even the most beautiful music would be as silence.


    All these, all this, all things of which I have


    Spoken, I receive in but a moment of your


    Presence, of a distance being an inch or a mile.


    I need not touch beauty


    to know beauty,


    I need not eyes to see it


    For what need has a heart of eyes to see


    What it already knows to be truth?


  • Just wrote this. Sorry the blog is shortish but I am very tired. Just got back from Wyoming. I’ll try and update for real later today. Nighty night!


    I do not sleep so much as I wait


    For why bother employing the senses when


    There is nothing more that I wish to hear


    To see, to taste, to smell, to touch


    Than you?


    I go willingly into my daily hibernation


    My sense deprivation


    Hoping God blesses me with but a


    Moment’s dream


    A glimpse of your face, your hair


    Shimmering golden in the wind


    Or perchance I see nothing but the


    Black canvas of sleep, yet


    The melody of your voice


    Floats in the darkness there.


    Greater yet is my hope that one night


    A blessed angel will rest in my mind


    Composing a dream in which I see


    Not a fleshy trinket of your body


    Nor a musical note of your voice


    Nor the pleasant perfume of voice, of hair


    Nor the soft touch or warmth of your hand


    Nor even the imagined taste of your kiss,


    For compared to the beauty of your soul,


    This true dream of which I crave,


    All other qualities you possess vanish,


    Nightmares by comparison


    For only in my mortal memory will these


    Mentioned things find an immortal place.


    Your soul, beloved,


    Shines on despite the erosion of time.


    This dream of which I pray for every night


    The one I long so to see within my mind


    Is what I love about you, more than any


    Nerve you might entice, any sense you


    Might arouse with your earthly presence,


    Your look, your way


    ‘tis only light reflected from your


    Glory carved in flesh but


    Oh! Your truest beauty shines with


    Its own light and does not need a


    Star, a torch, a candle, a spark to


    Light my way through this world of


    Dust, echoes, shadows, and cold.

  • HOW I LEARNED TO COURT A GIRL FROM STAR TREK


     ”ROOOOOOOAR!”


     ”You want me to roar at her?”


    “Klingon men do not roar – women roar. Then they hurl heavy objects and claw at you.”


     ”What do the men do?”


     ”They read love poetry. And duck. A lot.”


    -From Star Trek: The Next Generation- “The Dauphin”


    Man, how true is that. Well, I’m headed out to Wyoming for a few days tomorrow. I’ll try and update on Tuesday next week. Until then, feel free to look at past entries for entertainment if you want. Take care!


  • A brief entry:


    I was conversing online with my sister this evening and she was lucky enough to experience what few do: to see me create a poetic work out of thin air. Yep. She watched it happen. Here’s a bit of our conversation over my current predicament with Mystery Girl:


    Sister: love makes people act stupid


    Me: Then I am foolish


    Me: and without care


    Me: but for the love I have for her


    Me: dumb to the world


    Me: a jester in the court of ages


    Me: not caring that all are laughing


    Me: so long as one is smiling


    Have a good day everyone.


  • How do you convince a woman that she deserves to be loved by a good man? Even if that man is not me, how do I convince her of that? Mystery Girl has not finished reading my letter because she feels that she is not good enough for anyone. I used to feel that way about myself, but I rose above it. If God loved me enough to hand His only son to the wolves (so to speak) surely I have enough worth to be loved by someone else. And I know she feels the same way as far as theology is concerned, and yet she feels like she does not deserve the love of a good man. I hope that I can, if nothing else, convince her that she DOES deserve to be loved otherwise I don’t know what will come of this whole endeavor.


        How strange, to think that going into this I felt that it was I that was not deserving of her. Yet I hoped, and prayed, and tried to earn her, tried to convince her that I wasn’t just some schmuck with a crush. I don’t think it is possible to deserve anything so wonderful as being truly loved by another person. I think it is something that is earned and then given. I hope I can earn her, and then be given her. If not, well, we’ll see. Don’t worry Xanga; you’ll know when I do. Take care all.



  • So this past Thursday I was at my church, watching the Pope’s funeral. I was up the entire night, not a moment of sleep. I arrived back at my dorm a little after 8am Friday morning to find Mystery Girl working at the front desk. I saw her through the window and all I could say was good morning. That’s all that came to me. Then I went to my room, wrote her the following poem, came back down, gave it to her and chatted for a moment, then went back upstairs.


     


    For you, oh sun


    For you everlong have I waited


    Through all the night kept quiet vigil


    In hope, in strong but humble hope


    Of seeing you rise this morn.


    My quiet prayer was answered, and


    Upon my pilgrim journey you shone


    Brilliantly, heavenly


    Oh God, how this shread of Thy Divine


    Creation causes me to weep! A deluge


    Born of eyes so blessed to view a


    Beauty wrought in Thy spirit, bottled


    In a cask finely crafted by Thy


    Loving hand!


    In the face of this angel,


    Sun, resplendant flare, blossom, starburst


    Flame, epiphany


    Oh, what great words, what unsung song


    Comes to my tongue, so divinely moved?


    “Good morning.”