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Mostly my thoughts on fashion, mythology, and tea, with a few other things throw in there for fun.

This Story Isn’t Over…

I'll admit it. Sometimes I cry at the end of a book. Okay, more like all the time. I just finished the first Percy Jackson series today and there were definitely tears in my eyes. You see, as an avid reader and even more avid writer, I develop these really deep...

Stargazing

In my opinion, there are few things as powerful as a night sky. And not just any night sky, either , but the kind you see when you're laying on your back in the middle of nowhere. The kind that takes your breath away. Through each speck of glitter thrown across the...

To Bleed for the Impossible

Stress and college are two words which seem to go together really well, unfortunately. I've been learning the truth of that in my life as of late, but I've also been learning that I'm not alone in this battle I wake up to every morning. There is One who goes with me,...

The Deepest Magic

I think one of the most powerful passages in C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe occurs after the great lion, Aslan, is killed by the White Witch in place of the traitorous fourth Pevensie child, Edmund. In the midst of their mourning for him, Lucy and...

Nothing Will Have the Power

This poem is about the whole journey of my life throughout the past months, from the hospital to Ireland to Taylor University. I've based it on one of my favorite Bible verses, Romans 8:38-39. Broken glass. Shattered dreams. Dying candles flicker in the cold dark....

Music’s Epitaph

I wrote this poem about my recent brain surgery, and the struggle that I had trusting God through it. I've had a very difficult time coming up with a satisfactory title...I'm still not sure that I'm satisfied with this one. Tell me if you have any better ideas! What...

Blood Money

White linen wraps a broken body, A traitor bought the Son of Man. He who used to reign in glory, Now leaks the blood which stains their hands. The one who took the silver coins, And those who ran away, Accusations lead to empty words, Three nails choke out the light...

The Irish Never Forget

Scene: Third grade creative writing class. My teacher asks us to write out a list of our favorite places. As an eight-year-old I wait for a moment with my pencil poised, thinking. I look around me and notice that all of the other students have already set to work...

Eden is Restored

So...here we go again with the whole poetry thing...   In long-dead ground a flower grows, In frozen mud and old, old snows. Empty houses...lived in, Wind through bones...like breath. Bloodless hearts to beat again, Could love undo death? A forsaken cross, An...