Butterfly

I finally caught you today, little butterfly
You reappeared this afternoon
Just as I suspected, you're terribly sly
And only came after the flowers had bloomed

Well, I wore floral perfume today
So will you land on my shoulder?
There's a lot I wanted to say
Before you disappeared earlier

Yes, I wanted to ask how you've been
Where have you journeyed,
what places have you seen?
You left for a long while

Your wings seem to sparkle, as if you wink
Oh, I've seen so much, you reply
But you're completely silent, and I think
You're not leaving; why?

Then you flutter past my face, and in a sudden rush
You're no longer the white butterfly I once knew
Instead, a pretty man smiles at me, and I flush
The answer is clear, but I still want to ask 'who are you?'

You bow, removing your hat, smoothing your red coat
'Shall we?' you hold out your hand and I take it
Colors and pictures surround me, through the air we float
I open my eyes to find that I am lost, but it's with you

It's the Butterfly World, I guess, and it almost glitters
The most beautiful place I've ever seen
As you show me your world; I feel like I'm in a theater
Watching a fantasy film, or living in a dream

Your home is full of magic and mystery
'So this is where you go in winter'
You smile, eyes sparkling, looking at me
And you don't give me any answer

We see the ocean, the forest, the sky
We talk and laugh, you're like a good friend
You're a gentleman, Mr. Butterfly,
You are good to me; you're like a rare gem

I stare into your dark brown eyes; so gentle
You take my hands in yours; so warm
The moonlight kisses your face
And you kiss my lips.

I think to myself; who will believe this?
First person to speak to a butterfly,
Hold hands with a butterfly
Kiss a butterfly.

And now a man has become a butterfly
He's flown away from me again
It was all just a dream, but I won't cry
No; because this isn't the end


Little poem about my butterfly. He's been visiting me lately in our backyard, but I've only managed to get a few pictures of him.

What does he look like when he transforms? This is my best guess.

 Thanks for stopping by!

 Don't forget to say hi to your neighborhood butterfly next time you see him...you never know when he'll decide to transform back into a person. :P

-Argentia

Pensive...

I'm thinking.


 Even if everything is quiet, I still know
 The world is slowly turning
 The candle's wick is slowly burning
 The time is not long till we go

 Lights, action, fire, boldness, spirit
 Last chance to speak, quickly gone
 Without a guide, we won't last long
 For the first time, I stop believing it

 Run and run, keep trying to escape
 The trap's been set, I'm watching
 What do you think, just waiting?
 It won't change that I'm far too late

 What can I do when you don't want any help?


 -Argentia

Sunrise

Flying open, the windows will break
The mountains are black against the rising sun
The room is completely silent and I'm wide awake
As the reflection of my face stares at me

Making a moment in time to remember
The slight creaking of the floor beneath my feet
I'm reminded that it's no longer December
The smell of coffee from downstairs

Early hour, the day is greeting me with light
This likewise untouched moment
As I give thanks for keeping me through the night
To the One who causes the sun to rise

The One who blesses me every time I breathe
I inhale yet again, blowing out slowly
This place is so warm, I strongly believe
I'm not just standing here alone


-Argentia

Memory

Whenever I remember the lost time
The sun shined so brightly
Like a stained glass, broken memory
The rays of warmth and light

I stopped writing this forgotten poem
Because I was afraid
But I can't stop, this place I call 'home'
Must be filled with words

Held in the arms of one like a fortress
A familiar face smiles at me
Laughing, crying, but never loving less
I can't forget that day

You whispered a prayer with me
In the moment when my held-back tears fell
Even though you didn't believe
Any good would come from those times

The hours late into the night, spent talking
The things I will never understand
Every time I think of it, I keep walking
Measuring up to standards

People everywhere, crying deep inside
They're calling to me, silently
Gazes that always have something to hide
Nothing new under the sun, vanity


Faces burning in the back of my mind
Hands I've held, voices I've memorized
The colors were so vivid when the sun shined
Those times when I had no fear at all

And then I close my eyes, and I sigh
What will be made of this?
The times I spend alone, staring at the sky
Making faint wishes on the brightest stars

Indeed, the light catches, reflected in the soul
A light I feel I can't see from anywhere
A smile is piercingly clear, but I keep forgetting
The reason that I decided to come here

My memory is of a quiet, rainy day
A book in my hand, music in my ears
As I carefully pondered what I would say
Ah, it's been so many years

 

-Argentia

I'm Dreaming Tonight...

I do begin to wonder quietly to myself right now...
I try not to mention it aloud
But it's bothering me so, without a doubt
I'm left here asking questions in the back of my mind

Nothing can even explain this feeling
Words cannot measure up
I don't even know what it is
I don't quite know what I'm dealing with

I'm seeing those hazy images in my mind
Made alive as soon as I closed my eyes
The words that were said, I hear them
I keep convincing myself otherwise...

The sun rising early, the palest glow
The dreams I was sharing so carelessly
Glorious colors are fading to gray now
Places in the back of my mind, and lastly

Streetlights, softly warm and bright
I've always loved them more than anything
I would go out just to see them tonight
Just to dream about tomorrow


-Argentia

7 Months Ago

I still watch the same films
And I still read books of the same genres
I still have the same whims
And a strange fascination with commas

But my thoughts are somewhere beyond
It's farther than you would have imagined
But close to me as if joined by a great bond
A world that you would never have fathomed

You're probably thinking all of these things
That don't apply to me right now
But I am thinking about you, though sadness it brings
And I am simply wondering exactly how

You perceive me now; I guess I shouldn't worry
Insignificant, after all, I speak no more
Neither do I hear, see, or care, so you won't feel sorry
But they don't hear me, either, I know for sure

My voice is a quiet whisper among the masses
Do you think we could be friends now?
Now that I don't gaze through tinted glasses
Now that I see the whole picture in front

I've been thinking of you a lot today
And yesterday, and the day before that, it's always here
The thoughts of you and your funny way
Of making me feel frustrated yet happy whenever you were near

For a while there, I wanted you to know
The pain in someone else's eyes
Drove me to changing into this, just to show
Those silent moments I asked "who cries?"

The summer days were warm and humid
It rained nearly all the time, as if the sky knew
The way that we had all been somehow wounded
By the days that had worn us through

But by now, I'm doing okay, actually, better
I might have changed just a little
As I sit here, I compose a short, simple letter
And you can see into my world now.

The time since the last picture of you and I
Has been nearly filled, yet I worry
And I still miss you a little, and I ask why
You came into my life and left just as quickly?

I don't want to be left without words.


-Argentia

Quiet Stargazing

It's quiet, I feel distant
Deep inside, everything is so loud
But out here, in this instant
It's completely silent, 'cause no ones around

I'm completely alone, watching stars fall
My eyes trace them
Burning in the back of my mind after all
Even after they're gone

I suppose I can't fight it anymore, cause it's here
The site in front of me, the bright lights
The person I was before now is no where near
It's something completely different

Oh, the stars are shining in the dark, deep sky
Lit every night with the sun's last breaths
They shine bravely until morning is nigh
When the sun takes back what it gave

They're beautiful all the same,
God must have known I would like them
Just as when he gave you a name
He knew that I would whisper it in my prayers

So often there is the question of why
Or what exactly I did at what time
I question it all, and then defeated, sigh
It's not my place to do that

It seems somewhat strange, somewhat crazy
Like I'm half of something wonderful
And then half of the reality that is growing hazy
As I blink in the cold, dry, winter air

I wrap my arms tighter about myself
And I look upwards to the heavens
Searching for the silver pieces that show the King's wealth
Cascading thoughts surround me

Little first moment; when was it?
I actually have no idea
You could search forever, yes, never quit
I certainly have done that

And I still can't tell you when
I first saw a star in the sky
And I still can't tell you when
I imagined I'd be where I am

And I still can't tell you when
I first saw the night's darkness
And I still can't tell you when
I'll understand any of this



Writing helps me get stuff off of my mind. I'm amazed if this even makes any sense, considering how I can't really write or make sense of anything concerning letter right now....or words...
 They don't seem to form quite right. And even if they do (like they are right now), I spend a lot of time back-tracking to *just makes sure* I got ever last one in the right place.
 Because it's either really funny or a real pain when you start typing/writing like English is your second language.

 *crazy part of my brain* It is, it is!!! Japanese was your first language! You just don't know it!!!

 -Argent

 (Actually, the chances are higher that *German* would be my first language, since my Dad speaks fluent German, but...I'm pretty darn sure it isn't. It would never explain my grammatical issues, since German has similar grammar to English)

He Dreams Through the Noise...

I see you standing in the terminal
You're holding your arms that certain way
And you're looking about, confused,
And I can't seem to fight the feeling to look away


He's looking at me, head on, eyes so bright
I feel like this moment means absolutely nothing
But somehow, I don't care, because it's all in sight
Crazy with dreams, thoughts truly are something

The lights were bright and beautiful
The voices were something I will never forget
The faces were smiling and youthful
But there was a pair of eyes still filled with regret

Maybe it wasn't regret, more at maturity
So I'm left breathless,
He dreams through the noise, ah, so freely
And leaves me speechless

Who are you, a stranger in the back of my mind?
Dark curtains drawn by the passage of time
The words mean everything and nothing, because you're blind
Why am I still writing this, ponderings of mine?

Because it's just a small amount of time, say a year
That's all that's said to me,
All that I am expected to spend on this, dear
And I can't believe it, see

But then, there's reality, and people, and things
And there's the look on his face that strikes me
So I'm discontent with the evening and the starlight it brings
This strange discussion, this time isn't free.



Inspired by Vienna Teng's song 'Recessional'.

Lyrics-

It's so beautiful here, she says,
This moment now, this moment now.
And I never thought I would find her here,
Flannel and satin, my four walls transformed.

She's looking at me, straight to center,
No room at all for any other thought.
And I know I don't want this,
Oh, I swear I don't want this,
There's a reason I don't want this,
But I forgot.

In the terminal, she sleeps on my shoulder,
Hair falling forward, mouth all askew.
Fluorescent announcements beat their wings overhead:
Passengers missing, we're looking for you.

And she dreams through the noise, her weight against me,
Face pressed into the corduroy grooves.
Maybe it means nothing,
Maybe it means nothing,
Maybe it means nothing,
But I'm afraid to move.

And the words, they're everything and nothing.
I want to search for her in the offhand remarks:
Who are you, taking coffee no sugar?
Who are you, echoing street signs?
Who are you, the stranger in the shell of a lover,
Dark curtains drawn by the passage of time?
Oh words, like rain, how sweet the sound.

Well anyway, she says, I'll see you around



There is so much I associate this song with. So much. Somewhat, the song holds a dreamlike state with me; the lyrics almost seem to just bring images floating through my head.
 It's so amazing.

-Argent (Also, YAY for using poetry in my novel. XD)

-Flickering Electric Lights-

I whisper under my breath, minutes ticking by

The insanity burning behind those eyes

The voice in my ear and the way that people seem to try

To make everything make sense

It won't, but we want it to, so we're trying

We keep drifting from place to place

The time isn't on our side, it seems to be flying

But we haven't paid it any heed

There's some idiot singing Ke$ha on camera

I hate her songs but I'm listening

You're proposing some strange, new idea

I don't know about it but I nod

Yes, sure, whatever...it's always like this, isn't it?

I don't know what to say or do

People are always taking their time like this

Is it obvious that I don't want to hear?

An old song I used to listen to is playing in my head

Event's turn out badly before they happen

And I wonder if they'll just stay like that, but instead

You're saying things are going to change

Like always, I tend to debate truth and lie beyond what is healthy

The idiot stopped singing at last, but I press replay

There's an element of masochism in all of us, but this time it's not getting me

I can't let you get a hold of me, it's just not possible

There's a dragon blowing smoke in the back of my mind

An oriental icon, powerful and mysterious

And you don't care, which doesn't surprise me, people are blind

And I'm the one who's most deceived anyway

A smile's becoming more and more broken every time I see it

I can't think of what you say in this moment

Do you encourage, or do you let the pain run as it sees fit?

It's really just the two of us, gambling it away

So somewhat wasted, the time is over like it began

And I realize that I'm staring at a mess

A quiet thought enters my mind, but yet again

I swat it away before it becomes too much for me

Let me run away somewhere far off, 

and then there won't be any more problems.

Distant

 Distant and very silent
 As people go walking by
 Distant and discontent
 But I'm starting to ask, why?

 Why be silent and why follow
 Every rule that's set up
 Why be distant, why swallow
 Your words that I know are there?

 I can nearly feel the cold air's nip
 And see the starry black sky
 I can touch your coat and feel it slip
 Through my fingertips, and by and by

 I'm starting to wonder again
 Why are people far away?
 I'm starting to ponder when
 Or how long you'll act this way


 So many poems today. Sort-of nice. I am in the mood that I can feel things in my hands...see things. Smell things. It's insane.
 I'm actually sort-of liking the thoughtful mood I've slipped into. In fact, I'm growing to love it more every moment. It's awesome.
 A lot of crazy stuff has happened this first week of November.
 A...friend? Acquaintance? I don't know what to call him yet. Well, through the course of many events I've found he's a Christian, and recently he had some hard things happen...and he's grown closer to Christ through it. Exactly what I was praying for. It's kind-of amazing. (No, I do not believe it would be an issue with him that I just wrote that. He's practically told the whole world! XD)
 Two people had birthdays...that was exciting, and also really awesome. I love celebrating people's birthdays, even if I barely know them!
 I wrote 10,000 words in a novel. A crappy, not-so-amazing novel, but a novel. And I promise, I won't abandon ship!
 I learned I need to pray before I make decisions. >.<
 I am slowly getting over the third cold/sickness I've had this year. Not counting the sickness at the beach...so I'm hoping this will be the last one this year. Haha
 I...wrote four poems. And took pictures on two walks. ^///^
 I walked to the store when it was dark. I feel like a grown-up now. :P Mom also promised she would show me how to use a credit card. Next steps-getting a job, a car, and a cellphone/trackphone. :P
 I thought-my birthday is only 11 days away! And I keep getting excited about it. 
 And...I thought of Ireland. And I thought...I might actually like to go there someday.

 Ahem.
 I also want to go anywhere that anyone will take me. Canada, Scandinavia, Central Europe, Italy, Portugal, Japan, South Korea, China, Taiwan, Singapore...just anywhere that I can get to cheap. ^.^;

 And, to confuse and baffle you, here is Matthew 17:20 in...guess what language?

가라사대 너희 믿음이 적은 연고니라 진실로 너희에게 이르노니 너희가 만일 믿음이 한 겨자씨만큼만 있으면 이 산을 명하여 여기서 저기로 옮기라 하여도 옮길 것이요 또 너희가 못할 것이 없으리라 Matthew 17:20

 And He said to them, "Because of the littleness of your faith; for truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you.
  Matthew 17:20 NAS


Continue having a great Sunday! (That is, unless you mentally or physically dwell in some timezone where it is Monday. :P ) And please continue having a good November! It's an amazing month. ;)



-Argentia Krystofel

The Wind of November

 Blowing against my face gently
 The wind whispered around me

 I stared up at the gray, clouded sky
 And I saw all I ever wanted to see

 The world was quiet as I took a walk
 I kicked at the dry leaves cluttered on the road

 I felt like the whole world was huge,
 And I felt as if I were bearing a very heavy load

 The wind tossed the tiny dead leaves and flowers
 The gentle wind, but somehow I began to think

 Why the wind? Why the wind?
 Whether it's a gentle breeze, or a great typhoon

 It always manages to move something
 Doesn't it, and it will move that something soon

 Do you know where the wind that you love
 Do you know where it comes from?

 Why does it fill you with such breathlessness?
 Gray skies, bare trees, heading home

 I pulled my jacket closer, I took longer strides
 I took it in with wonder

 The air, cold, real, and yet numbing
 The wind of November

 The wind that I feel, that you've felt
 The wind that moves you

 The wind that fills you with emptyness
 The wind from Who?



 -Argentia

Rain

It's raining
 Raining here, raining there

It's pouring down the windowsill,
 The tiny droplets like kamikaze flights

You know it well, the rain
 Does it speak your heart sometimes?

It's raining
 Raining on your shoulders,

Shadows make their flight
 And fill your head with doubt as they go

It's raining
 The swishing sound of cars outside

Writing in the night
 As the rain patters on the roof; dark tears

It's raining
 Nearly, you can hear the loneliness

That's hidden in the rain
 That's evoked within us whenever it falls

The quietness we feel
 When the rain is pittering, pattering, even roaring

But I don't know the answer to this
 Or why the rain falls like it does

All I can say is the rain,
 In it's quiet, yet moving way

Seems to seek an answer.

In the Midnight Watches

 I'll be watching
 On a dark December night
 Till the sun does rise
 On this weary, old world,

 I'll be watching
 As time seems to slip
 Through my fingertips
 And the second hand ticks


 I'll be there
 In the coldest hour
 Though I don't know where
 To meet you, dear

 I will wait
 As the winter air around me
 And the stars and galaxies above me
 Declare His glory

 I'll be watching, yes,
 As the Ancient of Days
 Works in mysterious ways
 That I do not understand

 I'll be watching, yes,
 Even if I am afraid
 Even if you do not change
 Even if you cower and run away.

 I'll be praying, yes,
 In the midnight watches
 And the hours before dawn
 Not only for this but because

 He is so great and so mighty
 I know I have been blessed
 He is so loving and wonderful
 He is God, our Savior, and He will do what he deems is best.

Time

Time works in a strange way. It never stops; it gives no one a second chance. It almost seems to rule over all, though we must not forget Who rules over it. Some say time is evil, time is cruel, but is that really so?
 God uses time for His glory. Why is it we are in the right place, at that very right moment, to hear what we need to, or see what we must? Why is it that things never seem to happen when they shouldn't'; they always happen right when they should?
 Time may create barriers, but it also creates bonds. Just because of time doesn't mean that I don't feel attached to that last remnant of the past, and just because of time, it doesn't mean that I don't look expectantly towards the future, and the new people I may meet.
 The barriers of time may be healthy, in their own right. Separation from one, due to time, is not always a bad thing. And as time passes, that separation sometimes goes away.
 Yesterday, I was not free for this weekend. Now, you are not free, and I am, only due to the providential workings of our Lord. Perhaps it will work out and one day, we'll see behind it all, but for now, I am content to know that for some reason, each and every little thing happens.
 It seems like just yesterday when the rain tasted a little salty. Tears were being cried somewhere, and what hurt the most was knowing who was crying those tears, and knowing that there was no way to comfort their unfathomable pain. It happened when it happened...and I'm thankful that it happened then. It was just the right thing, given the right time, for each of us, tied to the other. I don't even know why yet, but slowly, like the bloom of a winter rose, the events unfold to reveal a beatiful, brilliant picture, that with the care of time, will not fade away.
  Everything we do swings upon the pendulum of time. The seasons, our days, and our moments. Our years, our lifespans...all is set in stone due to time.
 So I try not to loath time. As the season passes into winter, I hope that the people dearest to me, the people on my heart and mind, won't loath the time, either. With so many friends and family at these points in their life that are called 'milestones', I cannot help but dwell upon time. Time has treated everyone well; whether at the moment we each realize it, does not matter.
 Whether the numbers on the clock are changing, people are changing, and the environments they live in are changing, so that we cannot question the existence of it. Time isn't invisible; it shows in the slowly dying leaves, the nights coming on quicker and quicker, the temperatures dropping lower and lower. It shows in the eyes of my best friend, how changed and thoughtful they've become. It shows in the wrinkles on a face that smiled "too much" in youth. It shows in the children as they grow, slowly, but surely, into adults.
 Time is almost overwhelming to me right now, and yet somehow, a delightful thing. I take comfort in knowing I'm not stuck where I am, rather, I am always continuing forward. Always forward. Never back.
 I hope that we all respect the tool of time that God uses to mold us into what He wants us to be.

 -Argentia Krystofel

Update...I guess? lol

This is basically a conglomeration of different posts, just edited so they fit. I've mostly just taken the main subject of each post and...just read. >.< I'm seriously braindead right now.

Ahem.

 So yeah. Anyways, a new blog background!!! Yes, I know I'm late announcing that. It's so pretty-doesn't really match FALL, per-se, but I still love it...all the pink, yellow and orange remind me of Asia and summertime...lol. I need to change it for fall soon, yeah...But I really like it. T.T
 I've done several changes to the blog/organizing of different things here. I hope it looks reasonably better and less cluttered, hahaha.
  Lately, I've been preparing for Christmas by experimenting with candy recipes and soap stuff. On one such candy exploit (I was baking pocky), I took a break while the dough was rising. This happened to me-

While waiting for my pocky dough to rise today, I decided that it would be a fun idea to see if I could find picture of anime characters with green eyes, particularly guys. Typically, you don't get anything to weird when you search this, but for some RANDOM and totally weird reason I got UNDERWEAR on page...5? I mean, seriously Google? Aren't there more pictures for you to display of anime guys with green eyes before you start displaying underwear? Honestly? I'm a girl, but even I was just a tad embarrassed there. 


 Ahem. I guess the only way to find the picture I was wanting is to draw it myself or go to some other site to look, lol
 I almost feel as if I want everyone to make me Christmas lists or something! I only know what I'm doing for ONE friend, and that's only because I just know EXACTLY what to give her without having to even think about it...
  I've also been writing quite a bit recently...this is just a little fragment, that I'm not sure I'll finish but will probably use later. It was just this fleeting feeling, and felt so perfect, I wanted to fly...or something like that.

A slight, cool breeze sneaks in; it's late, on an undoubtedly fall night. Something about this night whispers to me, but I don't know what it is.

And a poem that I wrote...
Just as soon as the words came...
 They disappeared. 

Write the words, words that mean something
 But they don't seem to come, no matter

Whatever I do, they're gone, 
 They're gone like the feeling in your song

Deep inside I know I must write
 But it won't come out onto that endless white

And, the true goal of the post-To rant and rant and rant about NaNoWriMo. ^.^
 It's true that I am part of those crazy people that love to write a 50,000 word novel in November. This year I really thought I wasn't going to do it, or wouldn't be able to pull it off, but I decided after much deliberation, that I would. Actually, it took a few of posts like this one-

As for your boy, I am a girl INFP but I have come to know many... a lot of them are the sensitive artist type. They tend to be extremely nice, well-intentioned boys who usually have some sort of talent (like writing perhaps!), but they are also shy. A shy dude isn't too different from a shy girl, really, just without the whole "cutesy" stigma. Its acceptable and cute to be a shy girl, but a shy guy is mostly just quiet and soft-spoken, and often has frustrations with this because guys are (according to society) supposed to be tough and manly and protective. Not that they aren't! My best buddy who is an INFP guy is protective, but not agressively so, if that makes sense. But the stigma of being agressive is seen as acceptable in society, so that can provide some frustration and so on, if you need to add that in. Think about how genders are "supposed" to act, and see how he compares... and maybe he doesn't care, but is frustrated that the girls all like the badboys when hes a genuinely nice guy and just is too shy to make any moves (for example).-Post on NaNo forums.

 Ah, such a perfect description of those INFP boys. Quiet, artistic, sensitive, but longing to be able to compare to those bad boy types that get all the attention. This was truly a good motivation for me. I knew I wanted to write a novel about the different personalities-not directly about them, but about how people don't always get along with eachother, but can learn to appreciate eachother. I'm not going to go on one of my many long rants about how I make all of this work, but it really does. I'm extremely passionate about people and their differences, and in the past two days I've recently come up with a plot for one of the three main characters. I'll do another post on all of that soon.
 *sigh* Some days, I feel like ISTJs  and INFP's follow me around or something. I know at least four ISTJ males (not including my dad), and at least three INFP males. I wonder why that happens...I don't really get along with them, I just sort of...tolerate them? I mean, I love them...but I just wonder why I know so many of them. Do we act like magnets to eachother or something? :P

 Alright...off to write another post about my novel! YAY! You have two posts in one day to read, both of which are rambling nothings that you probably skip...oh, well. Enjoy if you can, reader.


-Argent

More poetry...

I just looked around a few Sundays ago and realized that at King's produce, the flowers have been set out again. This years selection is almost entirely yellow. Most people would consider this a real bummer, but to me, it's more than wonderful and oh-so-sweet. Yellow is my favorite color, and fall holds some incredibly *special* memories for me. So...
The poetry mood came again. *smiles innocently*

 I don't guarantee anyone will like this one.


 Flowers, yellow-my favorite color
 Someone said to give one away
 But I couldn't do anything of the sort
 Still, took it home that day

 It sits on my dresser now
 Along with other things of note
 Special, a little memory
 A diary entry that someone else wrote

 Things were inevitably simple then
 As the past does normally go
 Fall is the season I learn things, I think
 I think it enables a person to grow

 I think that we all learned something
 Really, in retrospect, I'm sure
 That she and he and you and they
 Learned something amidst the blur

 Of leaves and laughs and the bright blue sky
 With clouds drifting through it,
 Three dimensional clouds that I never looked at before
 And walkways the sun has lit

 Perfect hours of rushing and warmth
 That was a long time ago
 A new friend, lost ones, different things
 That before I didn't know


 I won't forget, I promise forever
 Leather gloves, English accents, and flat caps
 Cold weather, running faster than before
 Still different than now, still less confusing, better perhaps

 Words filled the page, black on white
 Hours on ends spent thinking
 I longed and longed to truly learn how to write
 And that's what I spent my time doing


 Things were funny back then
 A lot of things are when you're young
 I wonder why, I wonder when
 We'll laugh like that, a song we've sung

 Burnt out like a candle on a lonely night
 It's a simple fact, truth of the matter
 Everything can't always go right,
 But I promise, I'll still try to remember

 Cold days, spent in my own world,
 Watching the trees slowly loose their leaves
 Their hands, raised toward the sky
 The harvest pictures, with wheat in sheaves

 Then there were those moments
 When I felt the coldness
 Even stronger, and it still torments
 My soul, why was it always this?


 Fall is coming on again,
 Brilliant, beautiful, yet cold
 What will it bring me?
 What does the season hold?











 

 

The writers pen...

At an hour past midnight
The writer's pen strikes his paper


His pen is his sword
His pen is his alibi
His pen is all he needs to continue

He's a writer
A writer of love songs
His silence is beautiful
But his voice is strong

Writer, writer, in the night
Who is it who you search for?
What does lead your endless plight
What makes your thoughts soar?

Above your head, round and round
The reason is unknown to me
But I can tell, that without a doubt
Your pen is what helps you see

All you do is search and search
And lament your plight, your heartbreak
Even your life like a boat does lurch
Back and forth, back and forth, everything at stake

You shut down, lukewarm, but "satisfied"
But your pen always tells you more
Than you thought you knew
About yourself





You communicate a feeling, a feeling that is lacing your words like silver the clouds. A feeling that is like watching someone glance at you from the corner of their eye; sharing a secret emotion. A feeling that speaks of a hidden place, a small treasure that so few can unlock, open and see, but is rewarding beyond measure when accomplished. Why is it you write so powerfully? I cannot write like that. I wonder if it simply takes time. How can I communicate my small detail? That small detail that without even describing, you manage to make come alive...

Rainy Sundays...

It's raining. At 11:34 AM on a Sunday. In September.


Where? You can figure that out for yourself.



The rain falls light, pattering against the panes of glass without too much urgency. No, rather, the rain simply blurs everything outside. Inside, you can see. Outside, you cannot. Will you traverse into the unknown?
 Go, put on your coat. Something simple. Grab your umbrella, or pull over your hood, or slap on your fedora, whatever you prefer. Or if you don't prefer anything, no matter. Slip on your sunglasses; the sun isn't shining but the light you've got directed at you might make it hard to even walk without them.
 Head toward the door, and leave the people behind.
Go out into the rainy streets and spend a little time with your thoughts. You've spent so much time doing it, I know, but now...it's raining.
It's raining on Sunday.
Sanctuary, it isn't where you've been looking and it isn't in the place you used to go.
You spot it as you walk down the street, and you stop.
For a moment, you reconsider.
For a moment, you wonder if you really want anything to do with anyone anymore.
But you do. You stay far in the background; partly out of fear, partly because of that light, and partly from shame. But besides all of this, you listen.




 I wrote this while over at our neighbors house, watching their dog. It was late at night, we were planning on sleeping over (yes, they said we could do this), so while watching television, I wrote on my computer. This is what came out of it. I was somewhat dreaming of the days when it will rain on Sunday. When it rains on Sunday, I always think deeper.

 It's going to rain on Sunday this week...

If it were...

If it were real.


The statement lingers in my mind, a quiet reminder of the fairy tale that somehow, for that instant, didn't seem impossible.
I simply smiled, observed from a distance. I didn't feel giddy or light, but rather a rock-solid, attached feeling, like my feet would never leave the ground even if I exerted all of my energy just to jump. I couldn't move, yet I wanted to. I wanted to move, yet somehow, it was pointless. The whole thing was worth it in some sense of the word; just to watch and think-I want to remember this.


I didn't even realize I was dreaming.


I felt alive, surrounded by people in a dark, loud, enclosed space, with lights flashing only on one place of note, and that place was one I won't forget.


I can't help but contemplate my feelings. It was just a dream, but it was realistic enough that I believed it, even after the first few moments of waking up. I was calm; happy, yes, filled with emotion, yes. But I wasn't allowing it to take hold of me or determine my action. I stood there, I observed, I continued in my one persuite.
 There was something I had to say to you. Even if you totally ignored me, or couldn't understand me, I wanted you to at least hear my words, spoken for you.
 So even when I was standing right next to you, I wasn't distracted from my goal...
 I question myself now; no, I torture myself with inquiries, mulling over a situation that will most likely never be thrust in front of me. I feel so happy, trying to remember the dream that is now tarnished by time. Yet there is a dark, thoughtful, bitter thought of whether or not I would really remain so focused. I wish I could ask my subconscious some questions, almost as much as I wish I could ask you some.
 I've tried to reach you; todoke, but I still wrestle with the truth and hope. The darkness of this world, and the light that all will eventually be answered.
 So I repeat it in my head; todoke, todoke, todoke...reach you.

-Argent

Please...

You're the only one
That can say anything to her
I hesitate to say save
Or anything that might mean more

Right now, she needs you
Else it'll all go down the drain
It'll all be a big mess
And my tears will be in vain

Please, don't be like
The whole, huge, wide world
Please, don't stoop
To their ideas of how things should end

Because it doesn't have to be
This sad, lonely way
It doesn't have to be all black
With death during the day

And living it up at night
While the people
All turn out their inner light
And make a decision

To cut down that candle wick
Till there's nothing left
To continuously over do it
A simple, self-theft

Yes, they're all stealing from themselves
And they can only
Be redeemed by Christ alone, our Savior
So that's why, anyway

I'm asking you to help her
Because you can't save
I'm asking you to say something
Or at least, please pray

I know it's not the roll you play
At least, not usually
But when it's dire, and if you care
Please, don't act cooly


Don't pretend you don't know
And by all means don't play along!!!
Just pray and try, and don't go
Don't go down that road