This is something I wrote on Thursday, May 14th, 2009.

[ What am I? ]

It's gotten to be so dark that even the hand in front of my face cannot be seen. However, I do feel the light that many claim to be nonexistent. No, it's not that I see this light, it's just that I know it's there. Even so, I refuse to move. For I'm so tired of trying that sulking is all my mind calls for. So for a while I remain, complaining to myself between weeps and slobber. I feel disgusted, but it feels more pleasing to stay seated. Yes it's true, I don't even budge. In fact, it seems like it's been so long that I've become a melted mountain in my own spit. I'm also beginning to feel as if there was no hope in the first place. But I still feel this light, and by now it's weathering figure has become so frail that it's screams have turned to whispers. Yet, this time there's a tug on my heart.

[ Who is He? ]

It only takes once. One time to listen, and that's why my footsteps are seen. The hand in front of my face has caught my eye, and I realize that I've done wrong and it's time to move on. However, it's not that I just stood up and found my way out of the darkness. The scrapes on my knees and the blood on my tongue are proof. Proof that the light and darkness can switch places. For the darkness will not completely disappear until one certain day, a day that I do not understand. It may be a desire to, but I find comfort that He doesn't know either.


So what am I?
I am human.

Who is He?
He is Jesus