Monday, January 23, 2012

Look For Me Past The Emerald Hills

    I stepped down the stairs. (Or did I float?) The jaded halls were nothing more than color to me, and it made me laugh. Tear-drop stains on mahogany rugs give me shivers of half sympathy, half joy. The window at the bottom of the spiral slid open without a sound.
    People say, "Life is but a dream," but what they really mean is, "What is life without dreams?" A monotonous stream of forgettable instances that never really mattered in the first place? What are dreams, then? There are those you have and those you want, if you know what I mean.
    Do you know? The street lights claimed to, as I drifted passed. "The sky's the limit!" they say as well, but they never say where it begins. The stars seem so close in their artificiality, but the enormity of their reality is truly so far away. But I can travel there in the blink of an eye…
    There are the hills, and I stray from my meanderings. Do I know it all? Do I know enough? No, and yes, respectively. There's the bus, crying mournfully as it comes to rest. The rain falls in patterns on the funny little roofs here… Now the hills are much closer.
    What do I know enough of? I know my Lord Jesus. And He knows me.
    Such hills! They must have a spring under them somewhere. They're such a deep green they must glow! (In this dusk, at least.) I'm making for them properly now. The bus has rumbled to life again and its eyes go dancing away into the rain.
    I don't pretend to ramble, I do ramble. And such nonsense, too! I should get points for that. But you'll get points if you know what I mean. That is, if you do… Feelings are sometimes such hard things to grasp, and all the time even harder to touch on.
    It's far easier to float with them, as I do now. I'm among the hills. Life calls out to me, calling His name. Once a bare hill outside Jerusalem, now lusher with Life than the liveliest of men. He who seeks to save his life dreams for himself, but he who loses himself lives Life's dreams. The great success of men are the simplest plans of God.
    So, I dream and I float, but I'm not long gone. Only a stone's throw away, far past the Emerald Hills. Don't worry for me, I'll wake with the dawn. On the crystal clear day, somewhere past the Emerald Hills.


  1. I'm glad to see the results of such an inspiring Humphrey Bogart movie.

  2. Wow. I never really know how to comment on your blogs, since I often don't understand what you're saying. But I love to read them, and I love you, and I certainly love the way you say stuff. I'm convinced that someday you'll be a famous writer. You're already a fabulous one.