What are your biggest dreams?

My biggest dream is to be a light to people who’ve been in a dark place like I have. I was in a really, really dark place during most all middle school and most of high school. I didn’t fully give myself to Christ till age 15. That’s why I draw dark things, write dark stories, because it’s what I would have read and viewed. I still like to read and view these kinds of things.

But I always put a light in the midst of the darkness, because there is. But that light is so, so hard to see when you’re in it unless you’re told otherwise by someone who’s gone through it already.

No matter what I do later in life, I’d like to reflect that light to the ones who need it most, and maybe, just maybe, they can do the same for someone else.

Easter Morning

**NOTE BEFORE READING: This is an extremely Christ-centered poem. If you have a great distaste for religious content in your poetry, do not read it. Thank you.**

To know God in His holiness

Could take on mortal’s toil,

And shroud Himself in lowliness

To trod on earthen soil,

To be tempted by the one

By whom He was most hated,

With the plan, as God the Son,

To save what He’d created,

To be hungry and tired and sad

As all at some point are,

So His understanding of man

Was not just from afar,

And know His final breath would be

Completing His great plan,

While hanging nailed upon a tree

As His blood fell on the sand…

I know all this, and ponder still,

Yet this tale I don’t dread.

There still is ink left on the quill,

And Jesus is not dead.

For this was just a passing phase,

His guard stone rolled away

And Jesus walked from His grave

As nature sang in praise

Nails, they were but stepping-stones,

And pain but a sensation

As He prepared heavenly homes

For all who’d choose salvation

There is no greater love

Than His which makes us free.

His love has now brought life

To sinners like you and me.

Easter Morning

**NOTE BEFORE READING: This is an extremely Christ-centered poem. If you have a great distaste for religious content in your poetry, do not read it. Thank you.**

To know God in His holiness

Could take on mortal’s toil,

And shroud Himself in lowliness

To trod on earthen soil,

To be tempted by the one

By whom He was most hated,

With the plan, as God the Son,

To save what He’d created,

To be hungry and tired and sad

As all at some point are,

So His understanding of man

Was not just from afar,

And know His final breath would be

Completing His great plan,

While hanging nailed upon a tree

As His blood fell on the sand…

I know all this, and ponder still,

Yet this tale I don’t dread.

There still is ink left on the quill,

And Jesus is not dead.

For this was just a passing phase,

His guard stone rolled away

And Jesus walked from His grave

As nature sang in praise

Nails, they were but stepping-stones,

And pain but a sensation

As He prepared heavenly homes

For all who’d choose salvation

There is no greater love

Than His which makes us free.

His love has now brought life

To sinners like you and me.