Truth is Truth

I’ve got so many poems that I just can’t quite finish. A lot of the time I don’t truly know what one will be about until I’m a distance into writing it, and then I have to go back over it and conform its main idea all into a smooth flowing limerick. But it is difficult to end a poem when there is no main point of it,(when each quatrain is making a completely unique statement not coinciding with the rest of the body,) because there is no ultimate central flow of thoughts and then I have to simply make something up for the end and try to make it sound like it tied everything together, or like profound or something… which usually makes it sound second rate, I apologize. These are never my best ones but I still try to write them as best I can because I don’t like to scrap one if I’ve already started into it a ways, I’d be like killing something. So they are just there, just waiting, simply sitting as unseen and unheard words probably hoping I’ll come back to them someday and finish what I’ve started by giving them completeness, or life. I’ve said before that I feel almost as if poetry brings to life the letters and words giving them a sense of life and character. And ultimately are we not made up of building blocks that are able to house a living, sentient soul? Our bones and muscles as letters and words creating a whole body which when completed can sustain life, the soul. I feel there is a great deal of symbolism in every aspect of life, and it is up to individuals who stand out in their fields and points of interests to make those connections and share with others. I believe this because I believe everything; I mean literally everything testifies of truth. Not only physicality’s such as trees and stars, but even the way situations work, the way emotions and feelings end up creating realities. It is a difficult thing to explain what I am trying to say even in writing without going too far in depth, but I hope you(my readers…) can catch a glimpse of what it is I am trying to portray.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, is that life abounds, in more places then we might think, and it testifies of truth and goodness. Intelligence is in an incredible way much more then how smart someone is, it is what our essence is and it is what gives our bodies the ability to breathe, and to a lower degree it dwells within animals, it is even in a single ant, and it is in plants, trees, flowers, a single blade of grass but where does it end? What feeds the blade of grass so that it can grow? Water, the sunlight, dirt? Dead things cannot beget life, life begets life and growth. Life abounds and it is what testifies of wickedness, of righteousness and all things in-between. It is how miracles can be through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. And the Atonement is the most real thing the world knows which was brought about by the most pure form of Love one can imagine. And only the Son of God Himself could bear the weight of that Love for it stretches to the ends of time and all eternity and to even the lowest forms of intelligence in their humble beauty.
Sometimes I cannot contain my excitement when I think about these matters because it is so incredibly fascinating, yet sometimes I break down and cry because it is so beautiful how it all comes together. Like the greatest artist who knows every stroke of paint and every fiber in the brush, yet can stand back and see His ultimate masterpiece from a distance before it is even finished, and the vision itself only causes the painter to strive and settle for nothing less than perfectness in the art, establishing the very rules and groundwork for even the basics of becoming a great artist.

I do say that I love the gospel, and I will never deny the things I know to be true no matter how difficult life gets, just as one cannot deny air when they are under water, I cannot deny the gospel when things are hard. I know that truth is truth and that it never changes and I know what is true, I know what is true.