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

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

© 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.