The ring in my ears that I hear when I’m alone and quite, though brought on by deathly times, reminds me of my moments under the stars at night, gazing heavenward with glistening eyes wet with tears.
Still they ring as I write and even when I don’t hear it they do still, I am simply only aware when I’m quite, which are usually the times that I write and stargaze.
So, this seemingly negative thing I can’t help but associate with my searching for meaning and purpose which is absolutely everything but negative is simply there within my ears, loud as day when I’m quite but hardly noticeable when life surrounds. I do not wish to be flawed, but I feel as those pioneers who lost homes, children, the love of their lives, and their own lives, who testify that their trials were not too much to bear in order for them to become intimately acquainted with God.
I feel it necessary to state that these words are simply my heart crying out. I am strengthened in my testimony and of my abilities and blessings when I write, and also it helps me to bring purpose to the path I’ve been given to walk. Just to know that whatever will end up happening to me I’ll be able to write of things that are good and create poetry with my words. It is my source of strength when I am scared and weak, it is my way of showing respect to myself, it is, in a way me keeping good on a promise that I’ve been asked to keep. Simply to “write”, that’s all I knew I had to do when I couldn’t see any light or anything at all of beauty. One could say they’ve gone crazy when they’ve heard a voice from somewhere surrounding. But after much thought I don’t believe I’ve gone crazy. I merely heard the words which were to save my life, and I ask, is the product of me hearing this voice that simply told me to “write” in the midst of my darkest time, pleading, not for deliverance, but for what I should do in order to be delivered good or is it not? I believe it is good because it testifies of what I truly believe and that is in the Atonement of Christ.
Through burying my face in my pillow as I wept, to staring blankly into the ceiling of my room for countless hours with eyes swollen and red from overuse, I heard in those moments of the darkest night as I could not curse God anymore for my lose and pain, I heard as if it were the ringing in my ears itself at this very moment that I needed to write. I heard those words and as much as I hated blaming God for this pain I could not help it because I hurt more than I ever thought a body, a soul could hurt, but despite my cursing’s I found that when I wrote, I wrote of the stars, I wrote of love, I wrote of God, I wrote of a journey that goes beyond the bounds of time and earthly things. I found that what I wrote was what I truly believed in despite my horrendous weaknesses in action and speech. I found in my words a peace that did not come from the emotional need for companionship, but rather from my very self, though I still long.
I struggle with finding middle ground in my actions and feelings. Trying to be “normal” is something I’ve always struggled with because I don’t believe I’ve ever been emotionally aligned properly with the timeframe of my body. It can be very difficult, yet relieving at the same time. Difficult, because I never had the same thoughts as all of my friends which led to me being the strange one, or the odd one out, yet at the same time I’ve always been the popular odd one out, but not because I tried to be, it was just my own personal oddity. Though I have few very close friends, I know they are my friends, and though I sometimes feel alone I would not trade that alone feeling for worldly popularity. It’s better to tread softly in sincerity and be alone than to stomp loudly with throngs of “friends” and be loved, but what’s best is to walk graciously alongside a few you do love who return the favor by walking graciously alongside you in return.
I want to create a masterpiece, something grand and magnificent, yet something just grand enough that only a few might ever notice, those few who search for something more than what they can see. But I ask the question, why would anyone ever search for more than what they can see if everything they can see is not made known to them that it itself is making them blind.
I hope one day I’ll be able to live up to what I know is true.
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