I am blue, I am yellow.
In this lies all the extremes of human emotion.
Doctors call me bi-polar and treat illness with drugs.
Drugs channel the moods narrow the channels.
Oral chemical creates in me
Peace which others self produce.
This my cross, my burden to bare.
My weakness has come strength.
My eyes I have seen the world in
sun lit color and toneless shades of grey.
Faces are reflected rainbows,
and smiling friendships
or I feel cruel dull and senseless,lost in a fog.
To some I am manic depressive.
through time and space
Kites, blown windward fly in a sun lit sky,
plunge to earth when freed by the broken string,
in terror to all who watch to control or lend a hand.
I grope to know myself.
Those who surround me fear my change
My children love me in spite of fears.
Medication binds me to the earth
holds my soul within my body,
The spirit tugs to be free to soar,
the depths of hell gape to destroy my light.
When moving in the comfort range
the flood gate opens.
Torrent carries me to a new channel.
within the channel is a learned response.
feelings, choosing thoughts;
That I have little choice.
Only choice of thoughts determine the course I will take,
I can no more choose the gate
than choose the shape of the clouds.
Drugs control the gate and
bring me down from my rainbow.
I resent the ties but have learned gratitude.
I know beyond the rainbow lies unbridled euphoria,
flight into fantasy escape from the bounds of earth,
to crash like the kite, in terrifying free fall
through blinding light to crushing darkness.
Those who live daily a 10 point scale of emotion,
spend most of your days at four to seven,
never comprehend a 12 or
a plunge to sub zero of utter despair.
joy of rainbows and laughter sensuous pleasures
are only heightened the contrasting grays of death.
in sun lit color time exists no grays,
Nor can color and brightness in the grey time.
this is my cross, my laughter, burden, my joy
and faith and study of self
bring me closer to the center line.
Meds will control the swings while I learn the talent it takes
to control my brain chemicals
I will depend on the arm of flesh,
chemicals given by the Lord to man for my protection,
LoLyn 2-90
Showing posts with label LoLyn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LoLyn. Show all posts
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Lord will take the chisel to finish the sculpture
The Monument of Our Lives
By LoLyn
If I were a sculptor, wanting to capture the beauty of an idea to last eternally, I would be most careful in selecting the media. My children have some silly putty that is very soft and pliable. It is easy to mold and erase and change, but soon after it is set aside it returns to its original smoothness, no impression remains for very long. It is pliable and soft, and offers little resistance to the artist, neither does it offer any lasting value as a piece of art.
Sandstone grave markers in cemeteries stand year after year in the wind and rain, and the names and etchings are all but erased. Yet, there, in the same graveyards, stand monuments of granite and marble, on which the imprints chiseled with great effort against much resistance still shine brightly, reflecting the talents of the original artists.
We are all artists building monuments for eternity. If we build our lives against little or no resistance, we will make an imprint on eternity that will soon fade away becoming unreadable. But if we expend the effort to chisel our image into marble or granite, the monument will be a beautiful and lasting contribution to our eternal family circle.
To chip away at granite takes great strength and perseverance; one must take the tiniest slivers and be willing for the statue to look unfinished for a very long time. Keeping in mind the thought of the sculptor Michelangelo, it is not what is taken away, but that which remains that makes the statue beautiful.
Onlookers in our lives may stand back and say, "Look, I am finished with my clay statue; it is shiny and it is beautiful. Your rock has no shape. In fact I can see no changes in it since you brought it from the quarry. It is still rough and gray." Such criticisms may tempt us to trade the granite for softer clay, or to give up entirely, because of the contrast we seem to perceive between our own work and our neighbors' more visible results.
But we must look at that granite rock and the very small scratches we have made to see in it the image that it holds, continuing to chip away day by day, always letting the Lord guide our hand, being content to know that God can see the marks. Let critics enjoy their clay statues while they last.
It isn't a contest between this granite sculpture and the neighbors' statues of clay. It is only a matter of continuing to make an effort against the very resistant granite. When at last we have done all it is possible for us to do, and the time comes to face our Lord will take the chisel from our hand to finish the sculpture in the form we envisioned together before the world began.
By LoLyn
If I were a sculptor, wanting to capture the beauty of an idea to last eternally, I would be most careful in selecting the media. My children have some silly putty that is very soft and pliable. It is easy to mold and erase and change, but soon after it is set aside it returns to its original smoothness, no impression remains for very long. It is pliable and soft, and offers little resistance to the artist, neither does it offer any lasting value as a piece of art.
Sandstone grave markers in cemeteries stand year after year in the wind and rain, and the names and etchings are all but erased. Yet, there, in the same graveyards, stand monuments of granite and marble, on which the imprints chiseled with great effort against much resistance still shine brightly, reflecting the talents of the original artists.
We are all artists building monuments for eternity. If we build our lives against little or no resistance, we will make an imprint on eternity that will soon fade away becoming unreadable. But if we expend the effort to chisel our image into marble or granite, the monument will be a beautiful and lasting contribution to our eternal family circle.
To chip away at granite takes great strength and perseverance; one must take the tiniest slivers and be willing for the statue to look unfinished for a very long time. Keeping in mind the thought of the sculptor Michelangelo, it is not what is taken away, but that which remains that makes the statue beautiful.
Onlookers in our lives may stand back and say, "Look, I am finished with my clay statue; it is shiny and it is beautiful. Your rock has no shape. In fact I can see no changes in it since you brought it from the quarry. It is still rough and gray." Such criticisms may tempt us to trade the granite for softer clay, or to give up entirely, because of the contrast we seem to perceive between our own work and our neighbors' more visible results.
But we must look at that granite rock and the very small scratches we have made to see in it the image that it holds, continuing to chip away day by day, always letting the Lord guide our hand, being content to know that God can see the marks. Let critics enjoy their clay statues while they last.
It isn't a contest between this granite sculpture and the neighbors' statues of clay. It is only a matter of continuing to make an effort against the very resistant granite. When at last we have done all it is possible for us to do, and the time comes to face our Lord will take the chisel from our hand to finish the sculpture in the form we envisioned together before the world began.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
