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another_twilight
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Name: Rosalie
Birthday: 7/20/1992
Gender: Female
Interests: WRITING, ballet, playing, writing and listening to music, reading, God, my friends who are beasts, and writing.
Expertise: writing.
Occupation: Artist
Industry: Art
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  undefeated413
Member Since:
4/10/2006
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| Jesus I thank you yet again
for magnificent love:
for identifying something beautiful
in my insignificance
for eroding this
simple sinful soul
with an incredible mission;
should I choose to accept it
for this blessed assurance
and transparent consuming peace
and Jesus there is nothing else I
can give to You-
my hands are weak and
can lift only a psalm
and another broken life
but that is all I
posses, and it
is Yours;
make what You will of my minuscule faith
but Jesus nothing can remain hidden from
Your omnipotent eyes-
I must admit I am
afraid
however
a willing heart
in all-powerful hands
fear is no obstacle
and death has no sting
because Jesus I believe that You
surrendered the beating of Your
heart for me
and so Jesus I will donate mine
for the remainder of this life
to be a light for the world
the salt of the earth
greater than a conqueror
and a transparent
miracle. | | |
| the final memory:
the inevitable passage
of calmly eroded time
and his silhouette evaporated
from an overcrowded mind
to embark on a revolutionary
attempt to defy gravity
(though I must admit I doubted
his heart and in a way I
still do)
even he, however
never imagined it to occur
in such a way:
barely he had a moment
to gasp and
suddenly
six carried the weight of another
and for the sake
of memories: the
traditional reunion was
slightly ignored
hold fast hold strong
hold on to
(suddenly)
vaporizing time
and trust the heavens
to keep a firm grasp
on their gravity
yes, this is about death... who caught it? | | |
| What if life is a play, and each stars in his own? Every play has its stars, ensemble, and crew; every story has its good guys, bad guys, lovers, mysteries, and laughs. Every show has a director, unseen, to hold each strand together. And inevitably, every show has an audience.
There are those who criticize and dwell on the mistakes. Some are supportive parents who are unable to find fault, blinded by their fondness. Still others are just looking for entertainment and find themselves drawn in, mesmerized by the gracefully woven tales and harmoniously realistic, and at the same time fantastic, voices. These tend to be those who most enjoy the show, because it took them by surprise.
To create this hypnotic other world is no magic task. Some, those cast as “stars,” receive both a blessing and a curse—a chance to shine at the cost of many a free evening. The ensemble, the “supporting roles,” are often just that: support. Though a star could likely perform the show themselves merely from their knowledge of it, the supporters are there to cover those bases; to together be strong so that the stars can go that much further. And of course, frequently unnoticed, is the stage crew: those who make the show what is truly is, a show, a theatrical creation. Without light or sound a performance is worth very little.
The true quality of a play lies in the quality of its story. An uneventful tale lacking strong characters will hold not even the proudest parent’s attention. There never has been, nor will there ever be a story without conflict, and conflict is always tied to some sort of search for truth. A protagonist is always at odds with an antagonist, who nearly always believes himself in the other role. And few plots are strong enough to survive without a touch of laughter and love.
All this is placed in the hands of the director. It is in this person’s power to select the people involved and what sort of adventure they will be leading the unsuspecting audience into. In fact, that is the one thing the director is not totally in control of—who takes a seat at the curtain’s rise, and who walks away somehow affected.
I am the star of my own play, and God is my director. He cast me in this role because I have certain qualities that no other actress can bring. He has chosen me a fantastic ensemble and crew, a network of faces who support me, who make me who I am, who add those extra effects to my life—in fact, He has also selected me to several other supporting roles, in other shows. He has written me a gripping plot, to the point where occasionally I forget the ending myself; but it is also a beautiful, lighthearted script full of love and smiles. Several enemies are warming up beside me, sure of their lines and blocking. However, I too am well-rehearsed, and I know the ending well. Perhaps I will forget a few lines, but I am confident that I can improvise with those final scenes in mind. None can say who will fill the seats on opening night, but my Director chose me for a reason, because I can affect them like no one else. I have practiced intently and I’m ready for the opening night drawing so near, so quickly; ready to take a few by surprise, to show my God that He chose the right star.
And when I reach curtain call, the first of many, in four years, I can only pray that I will be able to say of my own life: “so ends our tale of love, mystery, and a fair bit of silliness. I hope all your endeavors end as well as ours did.” And when the curtains fall for the final time, wherever and however that may be, I can only imagine that standing ovation that I might receive, because I know who has been watching me. | | |
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