Tangibility

Finding myself again

alone with no purpose.

There's no reason to hope.

My dreams are just worthless.

What can I do?

How can I reach with these words that I write?

Can my simple prayers and poetry

extend to the heavens; take flight?

Is there a reason? Is there meaning?

In the end of it all

do I pour out my heart for nothing

but to watch tears and dreams fall?

-November 30, 2009

Its about 12:30ish. I'm sitting in an empty classroom. Sociology doesn't begin for another half-hour, but I like getting here early. Not because I like the class... heck no! I just like snatching the seat in the back corner...on the side of the classroom with the door. So, I thought that I would try to keep myself awake (research paper all-nighter) by updating this blog...

I love to write. I'm sure I got that point across a few blog posts ago. I'm also sure I've made it clear that I have a problem with taking risks. I like to stay in my comfort zone. At the same time, I've started to dream again.

I'm not sure what I'm dreaming for though. When I dream, I like to have a picture of what could be. When I have a hope of a job, I can envision myself at work. Even in middle school when I had such a passion for singing, I could see that dream unfold.

When I think about my future career wise, I have a picture in my mind. I have another picture when it comes to my dreams for my future family and my dream of opening a coffee house. I even have a picture of what could be if I open up more with singing.

Writing is different, however. When I think about my future with writing, I'm doing the same thing as I do now... writing blog entries nobody reads and pouring my heart out in my journal.

I want to do so much more, but what can I do with some silly little poems? What difference does my writing really make? I want people to read... to hear what I have to say. These are my prayers, and I am ready to let them go out into the open.

But why bother if it won't make a difference?

I am seeing what God can do with someone who dares to dream. It's slowly unfolding before my eyes, and I just find it amazing... but at the same time, it has me thinking. Her dreams are tangible. She can see the potential in her talent.... she has a goal to reach for.

I don't have that. I have a passion, but no tangible dream to grasp onto. I'm reaching out, but who knows what I'm reaching for?

And it's hard to reach for a an intangible dream.

When it's all over, will I have even made a difference?

Is there any hope in a tangible dream for my writing?