Grey is made up of black and white Dots

I once drew a picture of a frog. It was a Pen and Ink drawing. The paper was white and the ink was black, but from among the strokes a frog emerged. Its black eyes were made to glisten with a streak of white left behind imitating the effect of light on moisture. Its skin was made up of tiny dots that gave the appearance of grey. Now if I had used black paper and black ink, though each dot were in the same place the effect would be total darkness, or if I was to use white ink on White paper It would seem as nothing was there. But the effect of grey caused by the closeness of white and black created a grey tone that would make anyone just giving a passing glance consider the colour one—gray.

Sometimes right seems to be so close to wrong that in passing glance its grey. But proximity does not make them any more the same or any less than what they are—Black and white.

I am not sure how far I want to unfold this analogy here, maybe I will let whoever wants to ponder it separate the dots themselves. Letting other thoughts connect or fill in the gaps between the dots...
I just ask myself do I have eyes that Truly see.

I Sit...

I sit distracted
          Upon my bed on the floor.
                     My spirit is exposed, naked, bare.

I sit raw
          Curled up feeling cast down.
                     My soul is longing for more than what i see.

I sit waiting
          wishing more than expecting change.
                     My depths are disappointed, what i want is hard.

I sit reading
          Daring to hope, daring to believe.
                     My heart strings are plucked in a song...dare I sing?

I sit conflicted
          a war raging on 'til all hours of the night,
                     My cowardice is fighting against my belief...  

More random poetic writing...

I hide so much dirt

under an exterior of beauty

It is only a fool

who would think you don't see.

Surrounding myself with lies

I have almost convinced myself

that I have no share in the blame

that I have done what you have asked.

My whole life is Yours

those words were said

Then why do i look like me

and not more like your Holiness

I have honored you with my lips

but my heart has been far from you

Yet I still sleep at night

thinking you will still give good

Holy and right are Your Ways

You cannot be mocked

Yet I have been arrogant

Half pleasing is not pleasing at all.

My vessel is stained

on the inside

I cannot hide

You see it all.

Sifting wheat in the wine press,

hiding among the luggage,

In the trees as you pass by,

In the wilderness tending sheep

You see,

past, present, Future.

You know,

the full story.

Your Way is written

The Word in completed tense

You know the Name written

In the Lamb's book of Life.

I thought I knew all this

I was taught since my youth

Yet i still was ignorant

Though no one would have known.

You know I think myself little

So i act in a Big way

Yet I am afraid and impatient

and do not obey on my own

I've needed the bridle and the whip

to keep me in line

Even donkeys and milking cows

listen better than I.

What  a fool I have been

Taking years to understand

Chewing on grass,

I am so much less than Thee.

Like a prodigal son I come

Like a king who chewed his cud

I ask not so much as to be restored

Just let me be a servant.