Light My Path

How soon I forget how much my sanity is worth. How precious my time is.
Honestly, I keep running into the same damn walls...I guess I kinda do
it to myself. Maybe it's Karma. Whatever it is, I think it has to stop.
I have to find a new answer to an old question to save myself the
trouble of being troubled with folks that don't wanna be around me or
find me bothersome. This morning I woke up in a bed with someone who
really didn't want me there. My pride would like to know why, but
another part of me wants not to give a damn. I am leaning towards the
latter.

I guess moving on from relationships is becoming easier. The older I
get, the more cynical I become. I would like to believe I will find a
good thing but I know it's kinda what you make it. It looks as if I
don't want to be in a relationship, when the truth is I would love one.
I just don't want to settle. And I don't wanna be with someone who
thinks they are settling. I want someone to care for me with all my
inconsistencies attached. I want to be able to look at that person and
feel like they love me most; second only to God.

So here we go. On to another realm; another wacky world wrought with woe
and wonder where we witness willingness weeping wildly. (I love
alliteration!) I am willing to let God show me my mistakes and light my
path.
Marcelle D. Ward

The Happiness of Being Sad (What I Found)

Do you think of me as I do you,
As I would hope to dream to do
Knowing that our days have been few
Should I think to see it through?

If I could know of all I need
And see to where my thoughts might lead
A prison gone, prisoner freed
to avoid the pain, shame the bleed

But man I am, immortal not
the things I plan are soon forgot
Ideas are lost, I am caught
In seeking and not being sought

I think of you and I am glad
Of the thoughts we shared, times we had
Talking of the good and the bad
The happiness of being sad

So if there is more, if there's few
If we move on, or if we're through
I find I'm happy to pursue
Thoughts and dreams of loving you.

(I found that I have a fondness for sentimentality, and sadly it permits
me to be too forthcoming at times. But what can I say? Life kind of
pulls us along and we hit bumps in the road trying not to fall or let
go. Who knows what will happen next?

I have read that "there are other worlds than these". I feel that each
time I enter a new job, a new city, a new relationship, there is a new
world to explore. So, here I am again...wandering unexplored terrain.
This poem is both the new and the old me; I am freeing one to be the
other.)
Marcelle D. Ward

The Evolution: D. Swaine

It has been a while since I have sent a message to this blog, but I am
in good spirits. I am finding so much out about myself that I can only
smile and know God is gracious and merciful, and He has so much in store
for me. I am ever grateful for that.

Forgiveness comes to me in a way that I think may be hard for others. It
is easy for me to forgive folks now and I see how stress free I am in my
life. I recall my ex saying something about me not adding my misery to
hers, but she misunderstood me. See, I am never miserable. I am ever
HOPEFUL. Just cause I am disappointed in someone does not make me
miserable. Just because I have no money does not make me miserable. No
job; not miserable. And those of you who know me can attest that I have
not once shown, to any degree, any manner of depression.

I can be upset at someone and still go about my day because I have that
in my heart; the capacity to forgive and love and be compassionate. I
found that my gifts make me happy and using them alleviates any worry or
doubt. I often lose hours designing and creating, so much so that I feel
like I traversed another world. In a way I have, for I have found in me
the Comforter I so desired and he continues to aid me in my
transformation.

D. Swaine is my pen name. From now on I will write under this pseudonym,
that is, if I produce any further literature. But I feel there will be
at least one more book. D. Swaine is also the image of the capacity of
power I have within; the inward manifestation of knowledge and wisdom.

I go forth now as a soldier waging war. I go into battle armed with the
Sword of Truth. My mind is that sword, where God makes all things
possible.

Marcelle D. Ward

The Quiet Storm

"A quiet storm, blowing, through my life...". What's that like? Storms
are of course loud and often dangerous, but I am supposed to imagine it
without the boom? Maybe Smokey was talking about some crazy lady that
brought excitement to his world for a moment and then she was outta here
like Vladimir. All flash and glow and wondrous wind, caressing his
imagination to behold a woman's beautiful ways...

Maybe she is my quiet storm, new and strong and alive, but soon to die
away to make room for another. Very interesting, that concept. I have
had the song in my head all day, accompanying a pinched nerve in my back
and a need for sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be another song and the same
ailments?

I am finding a lot of freedom and I feel exceptional as far as utilizing
my talents is concerned. So alive and full of potential. Glad God hasn't
taken anything away. Hopefully the use of my gifts isn't a quiet storm
as well, here tonight and gone tomorrow.

Ellecram Draw's Journal: The Rough Woman

05/18/09 08:28 am:
In the dream I was in a room full of people, like a party. I was seated
on the couch next to a woman, beautiful and rough in her speech. Her
voice grew coarse as she spoke, yet it drew me in. There was another
woman who was seated on the couch at the opposite side. Her words were
indistinct, but she was talking to me. I could only pay attention to the
rough woman, though. She talked and I listened, drawn into her embrace.
As we were about to kiss, I recognized her for the demon she was, and I
pushed her down into the couch. Her eyes were lightening and she
screamed thunder as the room flickered. Then, nothing. It was morning
and I could hear|see rustling against the door. Rushing to it, I was
relieved to make out the sound of mail being deposited. No sooner than I
had realized such, there was a ring on my phone. Crossing the room, past
the couch, I saw that it was a text message, in bold, which read: I
know. A couple spaces down there was an unread message as well, in
bold, which was but one word: Marcel. Whoever had sent it did not know
me well enough to spell my name correctly. But the message was clear
enough. "Marcel. I know."

Upon awakening my head was pounding; a strange and powerful ache that
forced me to realize the dream meant something. It was a message, or an
omen. I don't believe in coincidence. Something is about to happen...
--
Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick®

Nights Like This

Nights like this you run away from yourself, hiding in mundane forms of
entertainment that can only sidestep the spiritual ennui felt in the
death of the day. Nights like this are masks to the murder of calling;
the crisp break from normalcy and the departure toward mediocrity.

On my shoulders wisdom rests, wrought with careless abandon and cautious
advance, two sides of the same coin, the same answer from a different
perspective. My world on my shoulders.

Of course this night withers, a night like this dies a decadent
expiration leaving memories fondly shaped and colored, to be held on
another night like this, to die thusly.
Marcelle D. Ward

Trippin' On the Past

Often I am reminded of the past, and I see the mistakes I have made all
roll out in some kind of mental parade, in no certain order, flashing
and spinning like police lights. I wonder if I have done the things I
should have, or just the things I wanted to. I think about "what if",
and contemplate the outcome.

I realize when I have finished enjoying the parade, tears or jeers,
nothing can be changed or regained. I was watching the movie "G" and I
was inspired to write this. Not just because of the outcome of the
movie, but the dilemma the protagonist was faced with. If you could
regain what was lost long ago, are you willing to handle the
consequences? Or, is love all we need, as people say? Is there always
that condition that is left unsaid, that if it is not met, love is out
the door?

The past is concrete, the present is malleable, and the future
intangible. I believe in love, and its strength. But to dwell on the
past love until it consumes the present, will inevitably corrupt the
future. So if you must visit the past, don't wear out your welcome. Make
it a short trip.

God bless.
Marcelle D. Ward