Unchanging Truth

There is no need to hide from, ignore, or deny it.  It is what it is…


The Time Machine


She stumbled upon a time machine.  It was sitting in a field, seemingly unnoticed by everyone else.  Walking around it slowly…one time, two times, three times, she wondered if it was real.  It certainly seemed real.  It had clocks and whirly things and buttons and lights and even a flux capacitor.

After looking to the left and right to make sure no one saw her, she slipped inside.

Now, most people, upon entering a time machine, would ponder at length over where – or when – to go.  She did not.  She knew exactly where she would go.  She turned the dials and pushed the buttons and fastened her seat-belt (for time travel can be bumpy).

It was a July afternoon, a hot July afternoon.  And her life was about to change.  The limbo that had been her days was about to end, and she had a choice.  She had several choices, actually, but one loomed above them all.

So she took it.  She congratulated and smiled and took a deep breath.  Then she peeled off her fears and turned toward him.  She told him she wanted him, she wanted life with him, she wanted time with him.  She asked if he wanted the same things.  She risked herself.


And he said yes.  He said a resounding yes.  So she ran to him and embraced him and started the rest of her days, leaving the time machine behind.  She’d never need it again.

If only the time machine had been real…


woman by water

She loved him then, she loves him still

Inside, she knows she always will.

The way he smiled, his work-worn hand,

The things he seemed to understand.

His face when in the midst of bliss,

And oh, his long, breath-stealing kiss.

He opened up a world for her;

He made her laugh, he made her purr.

He made her want to be her best,

His words could put her soul at rest.

She longed to give him everything,

He gave her a new cause to sing.

She doesn’t know what life will hold,

And so she cannot be too bold.

No, her heart is not sure of much,

But she’d give it for one more touch.

Stolen from Emily Dickinson

MY worthiness is all my doubt,  
His merit all my fear,
Contrasting which, my qualities  
Do lowlier appear;  
Lest I should insufficient prove        5  
For his beloved need,
The chiefest apprehension  
Within my loving creed.  
So I, the undivine abode  
Of his elect content,        10
Conform my soul as ’t were a church  
Unto her sacrament.