The Legend of the Phoenix

Defeated and dying, the embery glow that remains of the majestic bird dims out. In its final moments, it cremates itself in its kindle, giving a last glow of remembrance, charring up in itself. Though out of the ashes comes a glow-- radiating from the ruin, comes that fiery avian-- renewed, revived.

From its past, rises its future-- as elegant as it ever was.


Birthdays shared

Like the dying bird, there came a tragedy back home-- it was unfortunately through social media that I had found out.  It struck me incredibly hard, having a bond that close just cut-- him passing beyond the veil like that.  For a fairly lengthy bit of time, we have gone through our struggles, our sacrifices, and our fair share of challenges.  To have a partner in crime, slip away into the shadows, not to be seen from henceforth and forever just seems like this frail existence of the world that we live in is filled with cruelty and injustice.

Birthdays shared (almost).

Languages intertwined.

French projects accomplished

Seriously, life without him was amazingly dull-- my government class and my French classes were bearable only with the presence and the spunk of this soul.

More and more I think about it, the best of life came from the people you meet-- the people who make you.  He was no exception.  Because of him, I have found humor in the mundaneness of life.

Religionists believe that people who talk too friendly with the knife, succumbing to its temptation, are prone to hit the world underneath.  They believe that the taking of his or her own life constitutes an endless torment of justness.  The impenitent don't have a future.  The knife-wielders don't have a chance.

God is a god of second chances.

Let this phrase emanate to you-- your facilities, also.

I will not be the first person, nor the last, to tell you that in the perspective of Christianity, that my friend is saved.  He will see a glory unlike anything else of this world.  He will be in a place above the kingdoms of the world.
God's plan has been set-- from the birth of time.

We were made by an instrument of the Creator.
We were gifted and blessed with physical bodies.
We came down here to learn and grow-- with those bestowed bodies.
We leave the Earth at the time God calls us-- whenever early it may be.
We hear the blessed message of hope and goodness beyond the veil.
We will have bodies made perfect, living in a realm much greater than here.

The fight will rage, even past mortality, but He gives us hope in knowledge and closure.

For me, the words of a well-known singer reverberates in the voidness of my mind:

Look back in silence
The cradle of your whole life
There in the distance
Losing its greatest pride
Nothing is easy, nothing is sacred, why?
Where did the bow break?
These are questions I've asked myself over and over again.  At this point in time, I'm still coping with the denial phase of the grief cycle, as this hasn't quite hit me as hard as it has yet.  I know the emotions will come-- it does for all.

Intertwined with a self-indoctrinated sense of responsibility of another's swoop off this world, the scars of my heart still burn-- its sutures just barely holding it all together.  To have been a part of 11 total passings have been remarkably difficult for me-- I wouldn't want anyone to witness something of that caliber-- it just kills you inside how much sorrow is built up.  I am grateful for my mission here or else the thread might even have been mine that could have been cut.

To the many who read this, keep strong and see the future ahead.  That's as much as I can tell you in words.  Your life is valuable to more than just your parents.  To your friends.  To the people who had merely a glimpse to have met you.

You may be struggling.  You may be wanting to quit.

Don't.

The future is just a tomorrow away.  If not, it's just an hour away.

Keep your shoulder to the wheel and I can promise you that the world we live in doesn't have to be frail.  In the words of Job, "I shall come forth as gold" (Job 14:14).

This is you.

I don't plan on acknowledgement and I don't plan on fame.  I don't wish to make myself well-known in the expense of a close death.  I simply don't want to be superior in complex, obsessing over the trivial things that may make me come ahead of life-- especially advertising myself and my accolades, exploiting a tragedy for popularity.

I want to help.  I want to support.  I want to embrace.  I want to love.

No amount of happiness will bring to me out of popularity.  To those who do exploit, unknowingly or otherwise, stop.

It's been a sad several days, yet the blood I feel on my hands may be washed away--

"Redemption, keep my covers clean tonight."

And the sun will shine again.

Yes, "only the young can break away."