Whimsical and Wishful

Sophie, aspiring poet, continuously amazed by God's love for me and you.

"That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

"

Dear God,

I betrayed you again.

I told you just last week
that I would be better, and
make you proud of me,
make you not regret
creating me.

But look at me now:
with the blood
of the same sin on my hands
(I am so sorry)

Every time I come to you, and
every time you wash it
off with loving eyes, but
the next week I come to
you with more bruises and wounds
from my last battle.

When will you stop forgiving me?

Every time I give into my sins, I know
you are disappointed, but yet
you still wash me off and cleanse me.

I am broken and I know it is my
own fault, but the good thing
about falling, is knowing
I have your arms to fall back into.

When will I learn my lesson?

"

S.T.G., Others' confessions: “I keep failing God and I am afraid I will never stop”

send me confessions and I will use them as prompts to write you a poem because ily all ^-^

I still have seeds that
haven’t been planted, but
it’s just been so cloudy lately
I don’t think they’ll grow

"

I work at a food service with my best friend on Saturdays. I take people’s money, give them food, and return to them their change.

So, naturally, I have a lot of contact with hands. I’ve never been a very touchy person, but when I quickly drop the 56 cents into their hands, I feel a connection. It is not romantic in the slightest, but human.
I wonder about the hands I touch - the rough, the soft, and the child-like -

Who has held them, what have they crafted, who have they helped, what have they written, and where have they been.

A simple touch of our hands is enough to say, “I acknowledge your existence.” without saying a word.

We exchange thankyou’s and smiles, and we go on with life again, as strangers.

"

S.T.G.hands have history too

elenamorelli:

{ what makes me happy }

(via oldpeopleattack)

"I’ve been trying way
too hard lately, and
it hurts. Dressing up,
painting my face, smiling and making people laugh
although I’m sad. I think I’ve
taken on the
role of a clown without
realizing it."

— I found this in my drafts and I don’t want to feel this way again

The leaves scatter across the pavement  because they are lost - in the wind, in  themselves, and in  the world that goes on without them,
I know how it feels to fall from your tree, and be gone with the breeze, so I run to keep up with them.
S.T.G., sympathizing with autumn, 1/?

The leaves scatter
across the pavement
because they are lost -
in the wind, in
themselves, and in
the world that goes on
without them,

I know how it feels
to fall from your tree,
and be gone with the breeze,
so I run to keep up
with them.

S.T.G., sympathizing with autumn, 1/?

"

There are two things
that hold the power to expose our secrets:

alcohol and poetry.

It’s funny how they both run through our bloodstreams and make us feel alive.

"

S.T.G.

Say something nice in the tags about the person you reblogged this from

(Source: themisswayne, via gallifreyan-hoot-owl)