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Quote by John Geddes

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A Familiar Rain

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John Geddes

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“You wore my watch then claimed it as your own, twisting its chain slowly, hovered over the blaze of my torment. You would yell endless regrets across the dance Hall of echoes. So many echoes from a source that swayed smiling…id throw u over & over but you were the yoyo that’s loop strapped itself to the bones of my finger, layers so deep it would take more than a cut to untie your deceit. Lips bitter but your touch soothing & sweet. My heart would palpitate the moment your presence crept through the walls of my flesh; you held tight the gasps of breath keeping my chest strained with the pressures of your high demands. Not a single thing was enough, you needed me fragmented…”

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“To overdose is almost like being betrayed by your lover, your greatest friend, your confidante. The substance is your idol, your ultimate satisfaction, the thing that fuels you in life and keeps you going. If it is given a place in your life, it will fight relentlessly until it becomes the supreme substance of your life. An innocent puff, a momentary euphoria, will eventually become more valuable than every other thing. It starts off as a fling, but the one-night stand gets you pregnant, and in a moment, the course of your entire life is altered.”

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“Before I understand what I am doing, silent words pour out in a torrent of prayer. Oh, how long my spirit has been bound by bitterness. But now, a ray of mercy has pierced the hidden dungeon of my soul. My griefs drain away, and hope fills the void. Words of confession become whispers of praise. As my feet move through the streets of Utsanek, I exchange guilt for forgiveness, resentment for thanksgiving, turmoil for peace.”

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“The human life cycle no less than evolves around the box; from the open-topped box called a bassinet, to the pine box we call a coffin, the box is our past and, just as assuredly, our future. It should not surprise us then that the lowly box plays such a significant role in the first Christmas story. For Christmas began in a humble, hay-filled box of splintered wood. The Magi, wise men who had traveled far to see the infant king, laid treasure-filled boxes at the feet of that holy child. And in the end, when He had ransomed our sins with His blood, the Lord of Christmas was laid down in a box of stone. How fitting that each Christmas season brightly wrapped boxes skirt the pine boughs of Christmas trees around the world.”

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