Spencer Moseley

I grew up believing my whole existence was geared toward saving souls, bringing Jesus to others. I believed there was a divine plan so even if I couldn't see the future, I could believe that the future was bright and full of rainbows because it was in God's hands. Even if I had to "carry my cross", it was only temporary. Now I don't believe there is a divine plan for my life. I'm not sure if the future is bright and happy. I'm not sure if I will save any souls or if I am Christ-like. I wonder if I'm actually a bad person. So my choices feel less meaningful and special. Because I feel less meaningful and special. I'm not god's gift to humanity anymore.  There's a deep fear that will always exist too somewhere in my heart, no matter how ridiculous those beliefs seem now: What if, in spurning a belief in the divine plan, I somehow rejected a happy ending (no pun intended) for my life? What if God's plan for me did exist, and by rejecting t...

The fan spins, errk eek errk eek errk eek... The unknown tethered by a muse's fragile twine,  MLK subdued, no reason to care No reason to dream. We've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. Time is a construct,  Constructed by peasants on the road to decay, Trying to grow a broom stick with staw In rocky ground. What is truth? The stars dimmed, Unshining on a cloudless night. Hiding their light from the wise men and shepherds, Who yearn for hope. Hut, hut, turn your back to the forest and your front to me. The only lights, the lights of Babel, High on a pillar of irregular stone,  Crumbling at the slightest touch. Immediately rebuilt. May no one ever eat fruit from you again. The rulers who rule rule badly, While those in denial raise flags. And the rulers give speeches, visit dignitaries, And Atlas threatens to cave. Proud men don't like having to look up.