Untitled - Poem

     As I drove home late at night along frozen and quiet roads, Classical music played quietly on the radio, and I felt the familiar rush of this romantic’s soul. The feeling of being in a sacred place, a moment scarcely worthy to be known by man. I praised God for His goodness, and His love. The beauty of this earth falls dim compared to the glory and beauty of the King of kings. Can you imagine what it will be like to stand and echo with the angels, “Holy, holy, holy!”? 

     I have tended to become irritated with myself in the past, frustrated with how quickly I become passionate about something, and then frustrated with the “crash and burn” that undoubtedly follows as my fanciful, rose-colored glasses adjust to the harsh glare of reality.

     I may not be the way that I think I “ought” to be, perhaps not so self-composed, not quite so rational or levelheaded - but tonight I simply embraced the ecstasy of emotion that God has created, the tears that well at the beauty of a frozen night, and soft stringed instruments, and cloud-filtered moonlight. I’ll become frustrated again, and irritated with myself, but for now, I’m thankful to experience the soaring heights, and even the crash back down to earth. Through it all, God is good - and He is teaching, leading, and growing me, even in the craziness of life as a dreamer! As I sped down the highway tonight, the words to the following began to take form, and I rejoiced in the creativity of our God who has designed the beauty of the world, and the colorful, diverse, whirlwind of emotions. 

When the ecstasy of a moment 

Touches my inward soul,

I scarce contain excitement, 

My thoughts rapid unleash, unroll -

Reaching, writhing, pleading for better things in store. 

Things unspoken, things unsung;

Only whispered, hinted, secret things -

Here e'er since the world’s begun. 

Now again my soul has failed me, 

To reach the things unseen, 

Grasping mists and prancing fancies,

The burning embers of my soul 

Remaining now in silent memorial, the cold and powdered ash. 

‘Why so downcast?’ They kindly query. 

I know not how to answer them, 

I cannot near convey that glory out of reach. 

That beauty, and that sorrow cannot another teach. 

But somewhere in my heart of hearts, 

I state what time has taught, & courage grew -

‘Spare me not the pang of loss,

For before I sank in dark and gloom

For a moment, oh my friends, I flew!’