Why, I have asked of you,
did you leave me,
as a frightened teenage mother would,
naked and crying
on my parents' doorstep
to live my life
knowing I had come from you 
without every knowing you?

Why, I have asked
when bad things happened 
(and bad things have happened)
why have you forsaken me?

What I failed to see is the way in which
you are the water that fish swim in
and the world through which I move

I do not have the faith of saints
or profits
or even that of mystics.
But I have been given the gift of knowing you
as I know the breath I have been given.
Panserbjørne of Azuremyst

For our knowledge is imperfect
and our prophecy is imperfect;
but when the perfect comes,
the imperfect will pass away.

When I was a child,
I spoke like a child,
I thought like a child,
I reasoned like a child;
when I became a man,
I gave up childish ways.

For now we see in a mirror dimly,
but then face to face.
Now I know in part;
then I shall understand fully,
even as I have been fully understood


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    Ever since I was little I have enjoyed playing with words.  I recently went through some of my old journals (which I have been keeping since my freshman year of high school) and dug up some of my favorites.  Some of them I revised a little, and some I left as is.  Not all of the sentiments still ring true, but it is an interesting experience for me to reread and share them.  It's a little like opening an old letter from someone you haven't talked to in ages.  I am still writing plenty and I'm sure that there will be more poems and essays about my current experiences here soon.  Buen provecho!


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