Dewdrops and Sadness

Maybe rainy days make the sun shine less in your heart.

Maybe the drops soak your mind,

Preventing you from feeling.

Maybe frigid air takes your breath away.

Maybe the clouds hide your eyes,

Preventing you from seeing.

And perhaps the dewdrops frighten you--

Cause your legs to shake and shiver,

Cause your toes to freeze inside.

Does the breeze go through your ears

And rest solemnly on your lips?

Do you dare speak the phrase you think?

There you stand inaudibly,

Waiting for the noonday sun--

How you wish it would come.

What if it rains forever,

And the rays never breach the peak?

You will never feel warmth again.

But there you stay

With your feet in the grass

And your arms outstretched in the cold.

Others wear jackets and scarves;

They hide under the trees.

The rain soaks your face and hair.

The jumble of umbrellas doesn't suit you.

You prefer to be unprotected and alone,

And you fix your eyes on the mountain.

You never look beyond them--

Only through their hearts.

Every time you break your own.

If you'd only wear a jacket,

And look above their eyes.

The water wouldn’t freeze your toes

Swiftly Changing Time

Her hair blows with the waves

On a shore far from earth

Where the galaxies spin like pinwheels

And time will not exist.

The stars shine like the heavens

In a place unlike our own

Where she can only smile

And time cannot matter.

She floats through the air

On a transparent piece of space

Where the planets sing together

And time is not real

She glories in the atmosphere

In a day without an end

Where sorrow is no object

And time does not know

The gravity takes hold of her

On a moment unannounced

Where the stars begin to fade

And time will be an idea

Her tears fall down her face

In a room both dark and empty

Where no stars light up the ceiling

And time is a reality

She sits back in her corner

On a day so solemnly clear

Where she sings no melody

And time again exists. 

Dealing with Males

Oh I wish you'd be more clear

Like blue fountains in O'Leer.

Or the water by a pier 

Or a diamond held so dear.

Oh if you were then I would cheer.

But you're not.

As a female I am cunning,

And almost always am I stunning,

But it's painful to be running,

From what seems a future shunning.

With your words you're always punning.

And I'm not

If you'd just say what you think,

Because now we're at the brink,

Of a never ending sink,

Where I'll fall with a "plink".

My heart will slowly shrink

But you'll be fine.

So if you'd only just be caring,

Then I'd know about our pairing--

If it's true or only daring,

 If I am in fact impairing,

A heart that I am sharing.

But hurry up.

Your ambiguity appalls me

You don't know what I see,

My relationship with thee

Is that like leftover leaves of tea

Only seers can predict what are we.

And they won't.

Hot Chocolate

And heartbroken they fall to the ground, sobbing in agony at the loss of their love-and perhaps also the messenger, the noble soldier.

And they turn from the hill and silently trod on the blankets of snow, shivering from the cold and desperately wanting the relief of a hot, non-caffeinated, beverage.

There was an untimely blizzard in the fall of that year. The winds howled and the snow blew the multicolored leaves to the north. The earth was barren and white, and the people bitter with cold.

And the soldier stayed locked up in his castle, laughing at the peasants below, shuddering in the snow. The smoke from the chimneys blew in the wind and climbed to his tower window. Little did he know, two fair ladies called for help. He could not hear them over his own greed and slurping of the lovely drink.

And a peasant nearby peeped out his window at the moon reflecting on the ice crystals. His work was done and he smiled at the dancing snow before it melted on his outstretched hand. He yawned, glancing once more at the night sky, then retired to his warm bed which protected him from that frigid air.

And that soldier stares out his window, desirous to have more. He only wanted that which he could not have-the kingdom. He was more than a peasant, but only in status, not in happiness or joy.

And the fair ladies reached the crest of the hill and looked upon that dark, stone castle. They trembled in the wind and dared not move for fear of the madman within. But the very peasant, the one who so loved the twinkling of the moon, saw them in their plight. He could not sleep after all. He called out to them in the silent night and invited them to his small cottage by the hill.

And so they wandered to his front porch and he gave them woolen blankets and they sat and wondered at the beauty of the moon reflecting off that dark and solemn castle.

The soldier was bewildered at the people in the snow. He waved his white handkerchief to perhaps call them to attention, but the night wind took it southward and a lovely lady caught it. She looked upon this fabric and she smiled at the moon, for she knew it had been a gift from the sky.

**This small story resulted from a facebook conversation among friends. I interpreted their conversation about the consumption of hot chocolate, and someone's greed (Matthew), and turned it into a lovely tale of princesses (Erin and Me), and a friendly peasant (Ben). 

The Janitors

There's an elephant on the white board

Surrounded by mathematical equations.

He stares at me.

Edward the elephant always sees me working.

Just like the giraffes in Room 235,

He watches.

If only he were alive,

If only he could see.

If only he could move his trunk and speak.

But he doesn't need to,

Because they already do.

The orange peels and paper plates,

Even the sticky notes--

They illuminate it all.

The shredded strips of paper tell a story

Among beds of grape soda,

Candy wrappers, and popped birthday balloons.

The pictures on the wall need not speak,

Because the trash in the basket tells all of the secrets.

But the photos are so intriguing

And the titles so enticing!

They are covered in dust.

The trash is changed daily--

Always new, always rotting.

The pictures will never age;

The garbage always will.

But they will never know.

They will never smell the rotting fish,

They will never see the spaghetti sauce,

They will never spill opaque liquids on their clothes.

They never will because they never must.

They must never take out their trash--

Only throw it in the basket.

I must.

I must take their trash.

And the elephant always watches,

And I always watch him back.

He is a creature on the wall.

He will never be in the basket.

Only the mistakes will go--

Only the leftovers

And broken parts.

And I erase them.

A new liner for a new day.

The office doors open

And they smile.

They see no leftovers,

No mistakes, no broken pieces.

They only see the elephant.

They only see the framed diplomas.

They only see the beautiful sunrise.

And they will never see me.

And we don't see him.

We ask,

We pray,

And we plea.

We want the trash gone.

And when our hearts are clean,

We see the splendor of the earth.

We have a new liner,

And thus a new beginning.

He walks around with trash bags,

Changing liners every day.

But we are not the same,

For I visit rooms.

Rooms with photos, whiteboards, and diplomas.

He visits people.

People with memories, emotions, and intelligence.

But we both take out the garbage.

Seen by only elephants,

But asked for by them.

We are thanked by them.

All things are made clean and new.

 

Listen and Build a Palace

Upon living here at Brigham Young University I have come to realize just how insignificant I am. The latter has the capability to be disheartening on dreary days, but most times it provides a perspective that I have come to live with and appreciate. I never thought I was superior to other minds, it’s just that I now know I won’t ever be able to compare to some of them. Nevertheless I won’t stop pursuing greater knowledge.

I have been blessed with extremely talented and bright friends. In the past few months I have craved long conversations, simply to discuss life at a somewhat intellectual level. That desire has been fulfilled here and I haven’t been this happy in quite a while. I don’t necessarily contribute largely to these conversations, rather I provide comments to learn more. I enjoy listening and pondering upon the thoughts from peers and I am often intrigued by the words of wisdom they have to offer. Most of the time I dare not share my own thoughts for fear of my words being inadequate. However, as I listen more, new ideas continue to float about my head. I have yet to pin them down, but when I do I assure you that I will not keep them hidden.

I challenge you to listen. In so many relationships with others I have been chosen to be the conversationalist, so I thoroughly enjoy the opportunity to sit as an audience for a thought provoking testimony, lesson, or story. I am so amazed that people my own age have such beautiful minds and they are willing to share their thoughts with me. I hope that I will be able to continue those conversations and cultivate my own mind into the palace I wish for it to be. Although I sometimes feel insignificant in the great scheme of things, I know I have my own place among the people I admire and look up to. I hope that you can look around you and acknowledge, as well as appreciate, the abundance of knowledge your generation has to offer to both you and society as a whole.