It is my most curious and most unusual prospect my dear reader to expound a written directive on a whim bearing no sound form or construction in mind of any kind. The prolonged silence that has been stirring the words that need spoken are at the tip of my tongue and yet I cannot speak. Perhaps a rose had been placed on my lips as to keep my tongue tamed.
I cherish the art of the elegant pen in many ways this is not merely an art but a form of our own inner soul. The pen is not mightier than the sword rather the pen is the sword, has it ever occurred I wonder how words can be spoken and the ear hears yet does not listen or understand yet when words are written the reader does not use their sense of hearing rather they soak in what is written and the perceive it not with their sense of sight but their sense of insight.
It has been known for those who treasure the art of the pen that in the written stories through out time one can create a gate way to another world, an escape from our own. One can read the story of true love that is seen only in fantasies and stay up hours at a time re reading that same story because they long for what they don't have or because love is something that they treasure. Or one can read the Lord of the rings not only for an escape of this world and to be in a world they treasure but to find themselves as well.
I doubt many consider how the kind of books they like speaks of themselves, some who crave love might be attracted to a love story and see themselves as the main character others might like adventure because deep inside they desire something more than this normal boring life, they crave excitement they relish the role of a hero facing all kinds of odds for the greater good. Some might like mysteries or the supernatural but in all of these we unwittingly show a bit of ourselves, who we are deep inside that not even we ourselves realize and what kind of life we desire.
With every stroke of the pen and in every passionate word that is woven and carefully designed the one whose hand holds this pen has a sword that can pierce the hearts of all who come across it, making the heart bleed and gush. However contrary to your first assumption that may have formed in your thoughts and the image that may have formed in your mind the heart that is pierced is one in which is profoundly touched or affected by the blade in which the pen was formed. the emotions that we dare not show, the strength that we thought was long gone, the forming of a new found meaning and purpose or the true sense of who we are, All of these and more are the bleeding's of such a thing.
It has eluded me for quite a while as to why only with the pen can I truly speak, the heart my person is not seen or known in real life even if I wanted to show it for only in the art of the pen am I able to truly speak. Even my closest family have no knowledge or understanding of who I truly am not because I don't want to show but because I simply cannot. It would not benefit in any way in my view to speak this but I feel that I must even if by some unknown reason I find myself pouring my heart out once I begin I am unable to cease until the deed is done.
I like a certain genre of stories one's of knighthood and honor and valor, stories of those whose swords defend the weak and stand for justice even as they are cut and bleeding not even able to barely stand on their knees and yet the fire that burns them, that sense of honor and to stand for those who cannot even with their human limitations they disregard the pain and the loss of blood and even in the face of utter defeat even with their body as beaten and drained of blood as it is refuse to stay down and even if it is their final breath for the sake of honor, for the sake of justice for the sake of those whom they are defending give a final passionate swing of the blade and a cry of their very soul.
There is quite a lot of psychology in this. Why am I attracted to that? Do I see who I feel I am deep inside or do I see what I lack? It is true that in life I have only known weakness, even now inside many times I feel weak and uncertain and even my physical form is that of a skinny frail teen with little to no muscle mass or any kind of strength. But perhaps that is why only one who has known weakness can recognize true strength. I feel as if i am speaking to much of myself and yet I need to say these things, perhaps to simply get it off my chest or perhaps God intends to use these words in some form or manner.
When I write of a knight and of valor and honor and standing for those who cannot even in the face of death itself a fire always arises inside me as I write it yes even as I wrote that above this text I could feel this fire burning inside me being poured into every letter I typed.I believe the reason I love the idea of a knight is because inside by heart I am one,Only in Christ has this knight existed in me prior to him I could have cared less about knights or about what they stand for.
I had a dream a couple years ago in which I saw what I believe was the tribulation, death and agony was everywhere demons ran rampant and freely attacking killing and torturing as they pleased, the air itself was thick with toxins and unclean filth and people had to wear masks on their faces. however the dream focused on this mother and her daughter and a demon was closing in them about to do horrible things to them you could even see the delight in it's eyes as it was imaging all the things it was going to do to them and as it lunged at them with a sickeningly long and sharp claw out of who knows where comes this man with a mighty blade to intercept it making a loud cling sound as the claws hit the blade. The raging protective fire in this mans eyes even as I remember it astonishes me, in every sense of the word he was a knight and he gave off such a aura everything a knight stands for even as I saw this in the dream from my point of view i was filled with strength inside just seeing this man.
But what astonished me was that this knight was me except wasn't me. It was if this future Blain was given a new body that represented everything he was deep inside and everything that his former body lied about. Now I do not know if I should put much merit in this dream as prophetic though to be honest if he would will it I would without any hesitation fight against the devils armies to protect and stand for those who would be oppressed and I do not know of anyone who could tell me if this dream is not only profound but is in fact God showing me what is to come and what I will be used for but I do know that the Blain I saw in it if one were to imagine who it is that I want to be or perhaps am and don't realize it is in fact the image that my heart desires so deeply to burst.
I cherish the art of the elegant pen in many ways this is not merely an art but a form of our own inner soul. The pen is not mightier than the sword rather the pen is the sword, has it ever occurred I wonder how words can be spoken and the ear hears yet does not listen or understand yet when words are written the reader does not use their sense of hearing rather they soak in what is written and the perceive it not with their sense of sight but their sense of insight.
It has been known for those who treasure the art of the pen that in the written stories through out time one can create a gate way to another world, an escape from our own. One can read the story of true love that is seen only in fantasies and stay up hours at a time re reading that same story because they long for what they don't have or because love is something that they treasure. Or one can read the Lord of the rings not only for an escape of this world and to be in a world they treasure but to find themselves as well.
I doubt many consider how the kind of books they like speaks of themselves, some who crave love might be attracted to a love story and see themselves as the main character others might like adventure because deep inside they desire something more than this normal boring life, they crave excitement they relish the role of a hero facing all kinds of odds for the greater good. Some might like mysteries or the supernatural but in all of these we unwittingly show a bit of ourselves, who we are deep inside that not even we ourselves realize and what kind of life we desire.
With every stroke of the pen and in every passionate word that is woven and carefully designed the one whose hand holds this pen has a sword that can pierce the hearts of all who come across it, making the heart bleed and gush. However contrary to your first assumption that may have formed in your thoughts and the image that may have formed in your mind the heart that is pierced is one in which is profoundly touched or affected by the blade in which the pen was formed. the emotions that we dare not show, the strength that we thought was long gone, the forming of a new found meaning and purpose or the true sense of who we are, All of these and more are the bleeding's of such a thing.
It has eluded me for quite a while as to why only with the pen can I truly speak, the heart my person is not seen or known in real life even if I wanted to show it for only in the art of the pen am I able to truly speak. Even my closest family have no knowledge or understanding of who I truly am not because I don't want to show but because I simply cannot. It would not benefit in any way in my view to speak this but I feel that I must even if by some unknown reason I find myself pouring my heart out once I begin I am unable to cease until the deed is done.
I like a certain genre of stories one's of knighthood and honor and valor, stories of those whose swords defend the weak and stand for justice even as they are cut and bleeding not even able to barely stand on their knees and yet the fire that burns them, that sense of honor and to stand for those who cannot even with their human limitations they disregard the pain and the loss of blood and even in the face of utter defeat even with their body as beaten and drained of blood as it is refuse to stay down and even if it is their final breath for the sake of honor, for the sake of justice for the sake of those whom they are defending give a final passionate swing of the blade and a cry of their very soul.
There is quite a lot of psychology in this. Why am I attracted to that? Do I see who I feel I am deep inside or do I see what I lack? It is true that in life I have only known weakness, even now inside many times I feel weak and uncertain and even my physical form is that of a skinny frail teen with little to no muscle mass or any kind of strength. But perhaps that is why only one who has known weakness can recognize true strength. I feel as if i am speaking to much of myself and yet I need to say these things, perhaps to simply get it off my chest or perhaps God intends to use these words in some form or manner.
When I write of a knight and of valor and honor and standing for those who cannot even in the face of death itself a fire always arises inside me as I write it yes even as I wrote that above this text I could feel this fire burning inside me being poured into every letter I typed.I believe the reason I love the idea of a knight is because inside by heart I am one,Only in Christ has this knight existed in me prior to him I could have cared less about knights or about what they stand for.
I had a dream a couple years ago in which I saw what I believe was the tribulation, death and agony was everywhere demons ran rampant and freely attacking killing and torturing as they pleased, the air itself was thick with toxins and unclean filth and people had to wear masks on their faces. however the dream focused on this mother and her daughter and a demon was closing in them about to do horrible things to them you could even see the delight in it's eyes as it was imaging all the things it was going to do to them and as it lunged at them with a sickeningly long and sharp claw out of who knows where comes this man with a mighty blade to intercept it making a loud cling sound as the claws hit the blade. The raging protective fire in this mans eyes even as I remember it astonishes me, in every sense of the word he was a knight and he gave off such a aura everything a knight stands for even as I saw this in the dream from my point of view i was filled with strength inside just seeing this man.
But what astonished me was that this knight was me except wasn't me. It was if this future Blain was given a new body that represented everything he was deep inside and everything that his former body lied about. Now I do not know if I should put much merit in this dream as prophetic though to be honest if he would will it I would without any hesitation fight against the devils armies to protect and stand for those who would be oppressed and I do not know of anyone who could tell me if this dream is not only profound but is in fact God showing me what is to come and what I will be used for but I do know that the Blain I saw in it if one were to imagine who it is that I want to be or perhaps am and don't realize it is in fact the image that my heart desires so deeply to burst.