Could we with ink the oceans fill
and were the sky of parchment made
were every stalk on earth a quill
and every man a scribe by trade

to write the love of God above
would drain the oceans dry
nor could the scroll contain the whole
though stretched from sky to sky.

beauty

vanity

steadfast

pure

holy

bouncing around my head like tennis balls.

an epiphany is coming, but its painful as the electricity surges through the wires before the light is fully turned on.

there are no words

its beautiful and horrible.

This is a post i stole from Amber's blog. Someone anonymously posted it on her page. 


Anonymous asked: sometimes i'm so tired. sometimes i feel like no one gets it, y'know? sometimes i just want to fall asleep forever and not wake up and just melt into my own little world, and i'd wake up by the ocean. the sky, it would be a light gray, and it would rain sometimes, but the sun would be slightly visible behind the clouds. i don't really like sunshine. it bores me after a while. no one would be there, just me, and my pony would come up out of the dunes and i'd ride him forever. we would be able to ride right across the water, just like that. and there'd be sharks, too, but they wouldn't hurt us. no one would hurt us. hurt would be nonexistent, and perfection would exist. because perfection, otherwise, doesn't exist. earth doesn't keep perfection. it's impossible. like walking on water, and falling in love, and understanding what my dog means when he stares at me and wags his tail. i wish i knew what he was saying. i like animals more than i like people. isn't that strange? everything i wish i was, will never happen. whenever i create people in my head, they're tall and they're excellent runners, and they play beautiful music and create lovely things that i wish i could. but i'm just a kid. i'm sorry i left you to read all this, but i didn't know who else to leave it too. and you're an artist, amber. when i die, i want an artist to have my things, because i feel like they'd be able to figure out what i was thinking better than anyone else. because truthfully? i'm a wannabe artist, right inside my head. i don't have the stuff to do it, but i like to pretend. isn't that what we all do, every day? pretend? on a side note, you don't necessarily have to post this on your tumbler. i'm so sorry i bored you with all of this. if you don't want to, you don't have to even acknowledge that i wrote this. please, have a lovely day, amber.


Im thankful for hope. For a faith that makes every moment worth it.