sketch for the future

i was thinking
that my blog posts
could take a regular format
such as update: life experience, insight, spiritual application
poem: creative word play to express feelings about life
story:and a new episode of a creative writing piece

test run

update:

Life is a roller coaster. In the last two weeks I have met new lifelong friends, and stumbled through new callings, and baked a saluting soldier! I have learned and am continually amazed at the life-awakening lessons I learn from those I go out of my way to befriend.

I was humbled by the powerful testimony of a face I had passed by so many times in the hall at church. I knew that I needed to be her friend so I became her friend. There was a person behind the face! It was a terrific person that just after one conversation impacted my life. There was a testimony and wonderful eternal potential in that person behind that face! I got to hear it, not only from her, but also from my Father in Heaven.

How can I hear Him, if I don't hear them? How can I be his son, if I don't love what he has given to me? He has given me the people around me, and the eyes to see their face, and the time to spend with them. I cannot say, and do not fully comprehend, the love and mercy of the Savior in giving me these gifts. I am grateful that he knows me. What can be done with a few words? Somehow I say a few words, and I know Him much more.

another thing he as giving me lately has been a assignment to grow. I have recently been assigned to be FHE co-chair. This has had its ups and downs. I take every calling very seriously, as well as assignments. I do my best to fulfill and magnify my responsibilities. Due to complications, and lack of proper communication, I found myself with one committee member doing all of the planning, delegating and work. Rightfully so, my co-chair with whom I share this assignment, was irritated that I had not involved her more. I responded to her communication sincerely, and found her to be forgiving. Knowing why I approached things the way I did, and was willing to improve. I learned a great deal about effective communication, and winning that struggle, so that pride would not rob me of something of far greater worth, love.

Forgetfulness has caused me to rob the kitchen at the church! I have yet to return the knife I used to cut a cake I made last week. To make matters worse the cake was too sweet. It wasn’t the best cake I’ve ever made. Tsk, tsk, stealing a knife over a mediocre coconut cake. Shame on me! It was in the shape a saluting marine, and it was a valiant first effort I think. My mistake was in thinking that I had to make a denser cake to hold up under fondant, but this is not true. It’s not terribly heavy, though I wouldn't use it on something exceedingly squishy. Having more time to prepare would have been nice as well. All that being said, it looked like a marine and did not taste bad! I will return the knife tomorrow when we clean the building!

poem:
in the midst of his troubles the little bird sighed
the width and conscription of the sky is too wide

I can’t fly the length and I can’t fly the height
I can’t fly the width though I flap with my might

further and further but no nearer I come
the horizon is stubborn and as tight as a drum

I flap and aspire, contend, compete ‘til I fade
and the ache in my back is a sharp as a blade

to tired to rest, I wheeze and I whisper and dose
a raven who listened thoughtfully froze

cogitating and reflecting he chose all his words

the best to be said, could be said between birds

I humbly submit to your noble, grand rapture

A prophesy of a intransigent censure

you don’t know the sky like you know your own sigh
if only you’d hear keenly and wouldn't repine

the wind and the air, its lift and its flow
it'll carry you further then you'd otherwise know

the sunsets the promise the sunrise brings peace
a promise you'd you’d hear if your sighing would cease

the depth of empyrean is etched on the glow
of the horizon’s seraphic pink light that does show

the sky’s great oriel to the hem of the sky
its breadth is the span of the day of this life

when you wield all your strength and you’ve sung your last song
the length of the sky will be something you'll long

Every last sigh of grief and contempt

Comes from the forgetting for what the heavens are meant

The raven took flight with his wisdom and thunder

And the small bird turned back to his sighing and slumbered

story: part I
once upon a time there was a silver city nestled brilliantly in a low valley
but that time drifted and drifted until it became long ago and the once silver city
became a town called faded gray. in this town the people were droopy and tired
and everything was gray and faded. every once a while red or yellow would glow through grey dusty clouds and other then that there was no color except..... purple....
but the strange thing about purple was no one could see it! if something was purple it was hidden very well. this created a problem for Samuel Cole, his head was wrapped up in purple and no one could see his face!

he did the best he could and lived his life like the rest of faded gray, simple and slight.
one day as he was driving a cart of gray turnips to the market he slowed as he passed town hall, much to large for their little gray village, it was built for a silver city that had drifted into dustiness and a slight simple gray. that great tall building much to great for the town he saw as he always did the purple pressed up against the windows and trying its best to squeeze out through the great big locked doors that rested on great iron hinges mounted on a door frame that was as tall as a tree

samuel often reflected on how odd it seemed to close and lock a building because it was filled with something you couldn't see or touch. purple was always easy to see for Samuel but it was far to slippery for him to unwrap his head so that people could see his face. a hidden face was a fortunate disguise for a boy with ambition amongst a sea of drooping eye lids and aggressively bland taste. his slow pass of the town hall slowed gradually and the pass became an approach until he found himself standing at the door of a day dream with gient iron hinges weighing on his almost weightless mind trails of thought twirling through the air and not landing for several moments.

there was a creak and a long groan. Samuel dazed, still blurry eyed blinked and blinked and stared. tranquilized from his ambition and sobriety by a day dream amidst monotony, samual stood still as a dead wind. the doors groaned against the large iron lock and chains that bound the handles of the great doors. the doors bowed and creaked under some great pressure then as if calmed by the command of a master the pressure went down and the doors bowed back and nothing was changed nothing amidst the gray. a wisp of purple fluttered and floated and rested in the air as it came through a hair size crack. a little more purple did not bother samual cole his head was wrapped in it what harm could it be a wisp almost less the a wisp. so he, almost inspired regained his composure regaining his sobriety and took a hopeful note of this color it seemed only he could see and went back to his cart full of gray turnips.