it doesn't matter too much you say but my lie still hangs in the air like a cloud, or like a falcon, waiting in lazy circles for my next mistake so it can dive with the assurance of success, but i don't want it to scar your heart any more, i've made enough trouble for you and even though you try to assure me i do you less harm than good i'm sure it's you taking the stripes that should have been mine, and i'm just as sure it's pride that makes me think i really want them when the truth is i'm glad you shield me from the consequences of my conceit, so i offer you a bite of my muffin when you set your coffee down and then i stare out at the traffic wondering if there will be a reckoning one day, if you will tire of me and begin to count the cost in earnest...

looking for love and acceptance
but rejecting the children God has given
to teach me how to be lovable
as well as loving
how then, knowing this,
can i claim to be alone
except that i have chosen
to be so

Lord, make me loving,
teach me to sacrifice
even as you did
or at least
teach me to accept
your love as enough

rising moon too large
summer shadows at late dusk
loving easily

how's that for stupid
i don't know what i'm doing
but you knew that too

no summer movie
your hair becoming blonder
my fading love smile

in the book 1984 winston says when you are in pain all you can think is to make the pain stop, there is no enduring the pain when you have an option for release, and i notice with the slightest pain in my ankle or my back how i fall to the floor like a sack of potatoes, unused to enduring anything remotely uncomfortable, let alone painful, and i wonder as i watch your life unfold sometimes beside mine what pain you endure, what exasperations you swallow or spit into your blogs or your diary or the ears of your sister, or did you need someone to confide in besides God

there are heroes who endure their pain, or take on another's pain, heroes honored by our nation for giving their life for their comrades, men who love so much that when the question is put to them they laugh because they made their choice long ago to love and to give

there are heroes who never tell you of their pain, but simply endure day to day, and when they are gone and we discover the truth of it we are shocked that they bore their burden alone when we would have preferred to share had it been ours

i am a man of low character, if these folks are the standard...i sometimes wonder if it is too late to become a man worth knowing, but long habit makes me think it unlikely, if possible

Few men are born brave; many become so through training and force of discipline

fear is not knowing what to expect, what will happen, how to react, love is its counter and a gift of God for his beloved, if i cannot be brave can i learn to love, my idea above is those heroes loved and that's how they were brave, out of love, they preferred another to themselves

i find lately i am much more likely to want to cry, i want to cry when i read the stories of these men on military blogs, but as to your suffering through loving me i am more likely to attribute it to your lot in life to suffer, evidence of God's grace toward me, and your desire for rich rewards in heaven for enduring my company

a blog built for one to talk about the failures and the memories in ways that try to seem obscure but are just plain silly because there is only me sir while you stand wondering if the feelings you feel are the ones i intended when i wrote that i loved you, if not forever, at least for tonight

there is plain talking and then there is evocative lying in black on white in ether that has always been our medium of choice

lying beside you as you wither away i think how lovely every curve, every scent, every blonde tiny hair, every longer curling darker to lighter hair that hangs from my sleeves in the morning but now drapes your pillow or my arm and i am overwhelmed again with how much love God is capable of cramming into tiny tiny packages and i praise him, if only to myself