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Print By Joshua Roscoe
Even as I wait I wonder Hopes, dreams, and fears all equally thrown to the realm asunder The mountains that burst are contained While the waves that destroy are made calm The skies of tempest are diffused as I patiently watch for what I suffer to My hands begin their ceaseless writhing as they search for a handle’s form A craving far greater than what men have craved before Though I seem worried I rest at an anxious peace A healing respite from my world of death that never kills A tortuous anticipation of things to come The wondrous things I seek forever near While the darkness shown follows in sheep’s cloak A mystery solved just waiting to happen No longer do I fear the dreary past A guide of mistakes with blunder's landmark Navigated with the carriage of time And a map named Regret As I shine my light of hindsight I right the fight of blindsight As I look at the map my past has drawn of the future Some say there is no purpose That existence is a fallacy created by our minds A mirage in the desert of philosophy But anyone who has seen the miracle of life The driven reaction of purpose forlorn Will tell you that an accident is of intention A guided stroke of chance What would mean the flower if its petals did not bloom? What would mean the dawn if the sun did not paint the sky? How would a mother raise a child were it not the gift of a Creator? These lives of thought that work within my soul are vain For though my faith is right-placed I shall not find my answer here As I wait I wonder as the thoughts from my soul asunder direct my passage-by
The Reality of Dreaming By Joshua Roscoe
My mind races from past to future As I wake with uneasy grace from troubled sleep I cringe as I am reminded of the sins I have committed in days past The feeling of regret is surpassed As I remember picturesque the pain and emotion in the moments of wrong I have left behind As my heart still clings to these thoughts I can feel the tears of second-guessing Knowing the ways I could have chosen to make different the history of my hurt The faces of those whose rights I’ve burned are scarred into my mind The empty expressions as my agents of decay seep into their soul The sight of a personality’s death grows as their pupils grow black As I hear the others reminisce I turn my head Hoping to forget the record of sins that will never leave the slab of my life I turn to the lies of society Hoping to believe that I can choose to change my past That the world around me is a creation of my mind Laughing at the foolishness of my teachers I seek a selfish answer I sift through the sands of philosophy hoping to find a nugget of truth I turn to the earth’s analgesics Trying corrupted nature and man’s soul magic I slip deeper into my chasm of despair as I try to wash myself of memory As I delve into the depths of my life A wind of Heaven stirs my sail of direction And I am ripped from my self-pity I find myself on an island of land A remote villa with the world nearby I can hear the vessel of the world slowly trudge by An answer to questions unasked is brought to me A light in the night which I live The Son of the one who has taken my burdens from me My records are cleaned and my soul is washed A figure of white where death once stood The illusion of hopelessness is shattered And my past is lost in what I can become I raise my head toward redemption’s sound And I leave my self behind
ninetyandnine.com © 2006, ninetyandnine.com Joshua Roscoe is currently living in Northeast Oklahoma at a Teen Challenge Youth Ranch, working with His Lord through the journey from substance abuse to freedom. He can hardly wait to turn 18 and own a fat, marmalade cat. |
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