A Look Into Jules' Glass Bottle

                                                                                                                                        Held I find beauty within the small mustard seed, held in the heart of Him. Skies above  envelop His peace. I will always hold a smile, for I love my neighboring seeds, as He loves me. For as He forgave us, the wings of birds keep their course, within the hands of the only true Keeper. Each sacred breath, all in the glory of His name.

  ‘Tis the Season  At the last bell chime, a season slipped from our desolate grasp.  We failed to reappeal  our wishes for a new year. Now, as another passes, the clock seems to have missed a few ticks. Yet it waits for none. So as we share our very last,  carols, presents,  and others’ presence,  longingly cherished.  May we remind ourselves that beneath doubt we still hold a future, not a wistful past. Count every blessing,  fill every glass with cider, to cheers to our new forever after. 

Beneath the Surface I skipped the very last stone,  it landed on the parting waves  of dreams left unsaid.  A smile crept upon my face,  I was caught in a haze.  The soft breeze caught  my breath,  left my hair tangled  with broken promises.  My hands dug into the soft earth below, to align my heartbeat  with creatures alike.  I searched for another,  a stone or pebble,  yet found a diamond.  I lifted my hand,  for it only to escape my grasp,  just as my past. 

End of Beginning As the year comes to an end, I notice the flaws I dread. I somehow always manage to procrastinate through twenty-four hours of my day. My future creeps upon me, ever so near. Thirteen years, just like that— gone in a snap. I remember second grade, moving a small paper along colored posters rewarding my good behavior. I remember fourth grade, as a nine-year-old, guiding my little sister’s hand to the playground for recess. I remember sixth grade, swinging on a makeshift seat, tied to a tree with rope— summer camp memories held true. I remember eighth grade, laughing on a crowded bus, the engine humming beneath us, off to adventure, hearts racing with the rush. I remember tenth grade, propping open my laptop to join a live lesson or two. And soon, I’ll have to wait and see what I’ll remember from my last year— much to my relief, well, there goes those thirteen years— just like that, gone in a snap.

                                                                                                               You Were My Last You trapped me in your arena Tied my strings like a puppet But I held my secret Silenced my conscience While you took the stage Buried in roses I was buried in the ashes I clung to a vision A mirage of expectation With your deception You made it an endless drain I thought it to be my first A chance of love Yet the cards of fate Turned far too late I wanted it to be us But it’d just hurt me if it was The poison in disguise Were those little white lies Those eyes were once My seal of fate But now I can’t meet them Without a...

If Only      If only I was a bird,      I’d soar amongst      the clouded skies,      and dive along      the rushing waves.      If only I was a bird,      I wouldn’t have      a care in the world,      why stress when      the harvest      already exists.      In due season,      I’d leave from one      to the next,      nothing ties me      to any land.      If I only I was a bird,      life would always      be a song,      a clear melody.      My beloved nest,      comforted rest,      and shaded trees      among the bees.