Winken, Blinken, and Nod one nightSailed off in a wooden shoe; Sailed off on a river of crystal light,Into a sea of dew."Where are you going, and what do you wish?"The old moon asked the three. "We have come to fish for the herring fishThat live in the beautiful sea.Nets of silver and gold have we!"Said Winken,Blinken,And Nod. The old moon laughed and sang a song,As they rocked in the wooden shoe,And the wind that sped them all night longRuffled the waves of dew. The little stars were the herring fishThat lived in the beautiful sea;"Now cast your nets wherever you wish.Never afeard are we";So cried the stars to the fisherman three: Winken,Blinken,And Nod.All night long their nets they threwTo the stars in the twinkling foam; Then down from the skies came the wooden shoeBringing the fisherman home;'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemedAs if it could not be,And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamedOf sailing that beautiful sea.But I shall name you the fishermen three:Winken,Blinken,And Nod. Winken and Blinken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head,And the wooden shoe that sailed the skiesIs the wee one's trundle-bed. So shut your eyes while mother singsOf wonderful sights that be;And you shall see the beautiful thingsAs you rock in the misty seaWhere the old shoe rocked the fisherman three: Winken,Blinken,And Nod.

Life is pulling in so many directions at once. I know what i could do I know what I want to do and I know what it looks like Im gonna do. also to mix it up there is what I am doing. Im not quite sure on that one but what I do know htat all of those things are differen't there are a million and one different things I want to do there are so many things that I know I have to do for a few different reasons. I have forgotted who I am. I have forgotten if I ever knew who I am. I wish I were able to pick I direction and start walking. rather yet start running in hope Ill catch up to the two years of my life I have already lost in the works so much time I have waisted so much that could have been done but wasn't so many things I have to do that so many other men my age have done already. I feel like I missed the train or I fell off it and every one went on their merry way forgetting I was not with them. the whole world is passing by and all I can do is watch in facination and confusion.

Somewhere out in the wide world there is a woman. A woman that knows how to laugh, A woman who knows she is a lady. I believe there is more to love than surface attraction no matter how innocently based. Life is love. 0h the joy true love would bring, but not yet, I am not ready, my heart would scarcely take it in, but nay would devour it and spit it back out. For yet I am not a Man and am un-deserving of such a woman. But one day perhaps not so far distant we will happen upon a fateful Rendezvous . The joy of that day in anticipation makes me think perhaps that to love is to believe. To hope. To place faith in the idea that there is more to life than this that for every jack there is a Jill, a match, yea even a soulmate? To use the world seems overly presumptuous but there is not better alliteration to form the ideas lurking in my mind. But for now , until then I find, its only in my dreams...

Should I really fall I would not want to be recovered. My insolence and failure wopudl be to much to bare. At least that is my outware explanation, for lurking inside us all is a desire to be saved, and to know that we are loved, cared for and desired. It is not my wish to have sympathy only my hope. I am not longing to have a sholder to lean on, I am thinking how well it would be. If failure comes it brings with it sorrow, embarassment, disalusionment and shame. When recovery comes it pulls the nail out of the fence but still leaves a hole. With too many failures I become a screen, translucent, near transparent. My actions are watched and my blunders are not eisly hidden. But the master comes, and with his hand we can mend the holes. By his grace I am healed, after all that I can do. It is through his merits and by his life I am made whole. his life and death are significant. For all I can do in my oun exaltation it will never be enough, but the master comes. I am weak, I am borken, My neck is stiffened by pride, through the gospel I can be broke in I can be down hearted for my actions but through words and deeds, through works and spirit I can bandage my wounds but the scar remains, then the master comes and with him, through him I am made alive, clean, and forgiven.