Come closer, See me!

Come close to me, see me. Look through the windows to my soul, see me... Really see me. The turmoil stirring deep within, like dust swirling in the wind.

Can you make me see the beauty within me? Will you calm the pain? Come close to me, see me.

The girl feels, she sees, she hears the music, the music that can only be heard through the silence of our breathing, the stillness of our beating heart, faint and far away, but none the less there.

Is this but a mere memory of what once was? A daydream perhaps of what the soul longs for? Come close to me, see me...

The dim in her eyes, what is this? Is it death of the spirit within? Was it foretold what happens to the spirit when broken? The dim, making it harder to see the soul.

Blinding even those who look inside. Come close to me, see me. Don't mistake, don't be convinced that what is, is not. Come close to me, see me...

What is empty? Is it a visual which tells us the glass is empty? Is it the lingering pain deep inside our chest that takes our breath when we think of our losses and shortcomings?

Is it the emptiness in which we can not see but rather feel. What is this? Come close to me, see me...

I will march on. I will  not tarry. I will go forward and move toward perfection. I will march on, and fear not the thorns, or the sharp stones on life's path.

I will cling to life, the life within, and i shall release this outward existence which comes in the form of life, but is the cruelest of punishments. Come close to me, see me...

 Make no mistake, the girl will never allow her spirit to endure this pain again, this emptiness within which cannot be seen, only felt. She is scarred within the depths of her soul.

Her heart is now harder than before, it shall not be penetrated with the steeling knife which presents itself as love and boars its way in like a parasite. Come close to me, see me...

Pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses her understanding, the lie which engulfed her for so long has reared its ugly head but she will be victorious and break free of its cold grip.

The emptiness within will be filled again. Come close to me, see me...Come close to me, see me...Come close to me, see me...Can you see me?

Written by: Belinda Taylor 8-16-10
Random Thoughts 

Beauty in and out of Character

It's often said that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder". Each of us go by our own set of personal standards as we render our value judgment on who or what is beautiful. 

God is the author of beauty. Indeed the Lord has a great sensibility to beauty. That's why He made us all beautiful to His eyes.

But our standard for beauty is far different from the Lord's criterion, "for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart". (1 Samuel 16:7)

With this biblical reminder, may you be able to decide on the merits of beauty - `In and Out` for that matter. May the Lord give you His vision of beauty so we can all see the beauty`In & Out of Character`

Written by: Belinda Taylor 6-27-10
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epitaph of the Living Dead

This body hurts. This body cries. Wondering why its life cant be sustainable like other bodies. It wonders why it was chosen to live in the dead zone.

One illness after another, is it paying for past sins before it passes from this earth? Or was it chosen to test the innermost depths of its being?

Thirsty, numb, pain, all associated with its existence. Does it go on? Does it surcome to the ravages of its fate? Maybe it will fight for another day, maybe it wont. Who knows?

The strength the body felt so many years ago, now feels like a distant dream. Did it exist? Was it but a mere daydream interrupted by the reality we call disease?

Can't imagine the pain of the disease inside, can't take the violence shooting through the mind. Unleashed rage, pounding fear into the innermost regions of the heart.

Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet, let it not be a death but completeness, let strength melt into memory and pain into songs.

The body, not worthy, not of any value. It learns to stop feeling, but hopes for a life in the after. Will it be recognized and loved anew?

Will it be looked upon in a demeaning manner only to live eternally in its fate. Who knows? Here for a single hour in the wide starlight We shall be happy, for the dead are free.

Written by: Belinda Taylor 5-29-10
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