What Falconer?

“The falcon cannot hear the falconer.”

That’s exactly how I feel at this very moment, sitting before this computer where my thoughts are most swirled and nebulous, wanting to be grasped at, but slipping through the mind’s tendrils time after time.  As the falcon flies away, further and further from the falconer, the sound of the falconer becomes but a dim, nearly muted whisper in the tempestuous wind.  The most I can say is that I’m fighting a losing battle for a promise that I made with God.  I thought my last experience was enough of a reminder as to how devastating it can be to render myself vulnerable before someone other than God.  And yet, as a mother forgets the pain of childbirth and proceeds to bear more children, so I continue to create unfortunate offspring for myself within the chambers of my heart. I wanted nothing more than to wholeheartedly serve God, but by His design, He has shown me what a futile undertaking it is if willed by my own determination.  If He, who has PREdetermined the times for things to occur and the places where they should occur, of what use if my own determination, which clearly falls afterwards chronologically?  No matter how bitter I’ve made myself out to be, no matter how empty I feel afterwards, it seems like I can’t shake the fact that a hopeless romantic dwells in me. It’s almost a kind of emotional masochism, as I derive an obscene pleasure from failing in my pursuits; the only justification I can give, and have ever given, is that “it makes for good poetry.” What a depressingly absurd reason to cyclically plunge in headfirst into the latest romantic journey and find myself writing a conscious submission of a clearly foreseen shipwreck.

The hole that I have at present yearns to be filled, but it makes me feel so sick sometimes that all I can do is brood on the past and sigh seemingly more times than I draw breath.  God knows the supply that I need to fill the hole, but He also knows what I truly still desire in my heart, what I haven’t let go of.  It’s incredible how devoted I can be to things other than God when I have the head knowledge that He is Lord over all, capable of doing anything to His glory; it’s the good old blind loyalty problem.  If only I had given that loyalty first to God and to His creation afterwards, then perhaps I wouldn’t be so caught up with the people of this world, but by the person of Himself.  Sometimes,  I question how just it is that something I put so much time into could turn out so…unpleasantly surprising.  But then He is faithful to remind me of His will, and how He will do all things to His glory.  It doesn’t really comfort me right now knowing that because I still long for something else, but He has assured me that upon swallowing my indignation with my situation, He will provide abundantly more than I would ever have imagined.  It’s just about remembering His promises and applying them to how I live, living in faith and not in expectation.

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Broken Melody.

Symphony of life, once vivid and alive,

drained of the last drop of will to just survive.

Melody tuned with surpassing delight,

dark cast aside in the brilliance of love’s might.

And sorrows darted fast as rapids o’er a fall,

the cries are lost in the roar of advent’s call.

A petal drifts in the whistling wind of tears,

echoing a minor key of cheers turned to fears.

Black and white keys, a polished wooden frame

sonata of a moving chord that has been deemed lame.

Orchestrating mysteries of yet unrevealed woe,

tossed by wind of misery violent, to and fro.

Crimson Snow.

As snow falls from the sky, the ground is

painted red with a dripping smile.

The jaws within rend again and again

as the fight goes the full mile.

Paul says I do not do the good I will to

do, but that which is evil I do;

oh, wretched man that I am, suffering

the scourge of things I cannot subdue.

I try in human might to paint the

sky a different shade,

but on the purest snow, crimson

war is quickly made.

The battle rages on, and all I can

do is just to pray,

and listen for a word from Him

who holds my every day.

The Swaggy P Phenomenon.

Ever since 2001, when I watched Allen Iverson doing seemingly miraculous things on the court, I’ve been a fan of basketball as a sport.  And for some inexplicable reason, there was no way for me to be able to root for the Los Angeles Lakers, despite being a resident of LA.  I was always a fan of teams that were not quite as good, but had potential.  It started with the OKC Thunder, when they first became the Thunder (and not the Seattle Supersonics); then it went to the Bulls, when they picked up Derrick Rose; and now, my favoritism hovers with the Minnesota Timberwolves, who have yet to truly fulfill the potential that I saw in them.  However, in recent times, I’ve begun following the Lakers more and more because of one player – Swaggy P.

Now, Swaggy P isn’t exactly what you would call a franchise player, but he seems to be a pretty great example of what is quickly becoming a Kobe-less Laker future.  I don’t pretend to know too much about basketball, but from my limited knowledge, it seems like the Lakers have built a team of players that is comprised of individually gifted pieces that work as a unit.  Riddled with injuries, it’s difficult to have a consistent core group come together and show up each night to play.  However, they could perhaps become a different team from what the Lakers have been used to being.  With the right coaching system, it’s entirely possible to be a very young Spurs-esque team.

All that boring stuff aside, let’s get down to talking about Swaggy P.  The man, ignoring the questionable shot selection at times, is possibly the most infectiously positive player in the game.  He talks as if he’s high all the time, but something about that far-off, not-entirely-there, gentle, high voice of his inevitably induces a smile.  He is, indeed, swaggy, having a ridiculous amount of confidence that doesn’t come off as arrogant, but self-assured.  The Lakers go through a losing streak, and Swaggy P is the one keeping a smile on not because losing is fun for him, but because he realizes his role as the one keeping up morale in the locker room.  Swaggy P loves dribbling the ball and taking big time shots (even if they are completely off target) because that’s what keeps the game fun for him.  He plays to win, just as all basketball players should be doing, but he understands that the game is still a game.  Nick Young was born to entertain people, and if you don’t like the way he plays, at least admire his attempt to provide that occasional brilliance that comes from an unceasing effort to try – whether it be 360-degree layups (that he’s made in the past) or crossing up defenders and going hard to the hoop.  Swaggy P tries harder than most people would give him credit for, I think, and on top of it all, he laughs and has the ability to laugh at himself.  That peculiar quality of being able to have fun at his own expense and yet still remain confident in that Swaggy P way is why he’s got me, a seasoned veteran of opposing the Lakers, rooting for them to do big things.  Because I believe in Swaggy P and the new Lakers crew that’s rolling in.  It’s just going to take a bit of time, hard work, and most importantly, swag, but the Lakers will most likely find themselves in an interesting spot in the years to come.  Here’s to Swaggy P staying with the Lakeshow.

Swaggy 360

Clouds of Conflict.

The gray sky pales above the mountain’s peak,

it’s sighing slow, a future coming bleak.

The clouds a-swirling overhead this day,

the echo of a lifetime filled with gray.

As breaths all sighs become within the heart,

the clouds up high are unimpressed by art.

Identity is lost before the veil,

as piercing cries burst through the stormy gale.

Hands clutched toward the temple of the mind,

what avenue is there that is not blind?

The heart deceives and reaps not its own fall,

the only hope is now to hear His call.

In 2014.

As the new year rolls in, people around the world (or perhaps only in America) resolve to change certain things about them in the upcoming year, usually in the vein of self-improvement.  For me, I haven’t been able to successfully fulfill my resolution until last year, when I was able to churn out a poem and an essay per week.  This year, again in the interest of advancing my writing skills, I resolve to do more leisure reading and forcefully remove myself from the internet and mobile devices.  God has a funny way of revealing things to us when He decides that we are ready, and so I hope that He reveals a lot to me through the stillness of reading.  The goal is to be able to read things and have complex thoughts about them, then try and see if I can’t find the simple truths buried deep within.  Not only will this effectively improve my comprehension of literature, but it also allows me to gain deeper comprehension into the way that life is run.  With a bit of a bitterness towards my former hopeless romanticism, I have no doubts that this year will be a year of God-driven realism; I just pray that He still finds some way to make my life as colorful and vivid as it was before.  Here’s to a blessed 2014!

I’d also like to conclude with a  word to my readers (which, as pompous as it may seem, is as heartfelt as it can be given the nature of our relationship). Thank you all for encouraging me daily with your likes and also the rare comments; you have no idea how incredible it is when you see that people around the world can be moved by what I am experiencing worlds apart.  I hope you all can find a way to improve yourselves, whether spiritually or practically, for the non-religious.  In any event, the mindset of self-improvement is an encouraging one because it shows that, at least at some point of the year, you had faith in the possibility that you could be changed.  And faith is the revelation of things unseen.  So this year, keep that in mind as you do your best to strive towards your goal, and I’ll be here, writing about my own struggles to attain some of my goals as well.

Cheers!

– Ben