Painted Words: The Art of Loving

By Christopher Johnson

Craved from our first breath until the last, love's splendor guides us toward our salvation. Challenging anyone who dares to take on the gauntlet called life. From a womb's darkness to the light of day, along the end of each, we're rocked by love's lullabies beneath stars and dreams. Why our circled beginnings starts out as the purest form of having nothing. As our tiny hands holds small change, growing in the wealth of each embrace. Of being overwhelmed by love's warmth and stunned by its chills; these seasons come and go. From the lessons in how we learn to crawl before you can walk. As each step taken allows everyone to find their balance, our self-worth. For love is a priceless piece of art, as its hues will take on different emotions. We're drawn by each stroke throughout living. Of our belief in God, family, friends, goals, loss, success, failure, and truth, these torches we pass down to our children. So permit me this chance of being my model, and I will paint you such stories of love. Get comfortable in your favorite chair, or just lie in your bed snuggled beneath the sheets. I shall attempt to turn you up, down, and around throughout loves' magical. It's amazing without any strings attached. And at its end, you may think I was right there the whole time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798891301818

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Painted Words

The Art of Loving

Christopher Johnson

ISBN 979-8-89130-180-1 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89130-181-8 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Christopher Johnson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

You gave purpose for my eyes to open

To witness another day.

Forgive me of my sins, the wrongs on going

Guide and protect me on my way.

Lord, I am not the same person

That laid their head to rest.

I have a new disposition and version

Ready to pass your every test.

I know you have a plan

With a specific course for me.

Today I will adhere to your commands,

Believing in the splendid things I could be.

Amen.

Truth is a whisper, misunderstood, alienated, and then quickly discarded. Each word unafraid, for its meaning finds comfort even in the presence of a stranger, a gesture often shunned. A thought hides everyone's true intentions, its purpose unknown while the truth only tries so hard to be heard.

About the Author

You gave purpose for my eyes to open

To witness another day.

Forgive me of my sins, the wrongs on going

Guide and protect me on my way.

Lord, I am not the same person

That laid their head to rest.

I have a new disposition and version

Ready to pass your every test.

I know you have a plan

With a specific course for me.

Today I will adhere to your commands,

Believing in the splendid things I could be.

Amen.

Truth is a whisper, misunderstood, alienated, and then quickly discarded. Each word unafraid, for its meaning finds comfort even in the presence of a stranger, a gesture often shunned. A thought hides everyone's true intentions, its purpose unknown while the truth only tries so hard to be heard.

Listen to what I have to say. This simple command urged by any heart that has reached a tranquil sure; the hardships survived. Why can't I enjoy the distance traveled yet so far, here and now? I just don't want any more ripples in my pool. Let me simply wade in the shallows, for my breaths taken were much deeper. It appeared with each inhale, twice as many problems came out of thin air. A diminished effort bound to this sinking feeling and I the weight. Struggling to find peace, whence the hidden agendas of life had its say. While I was unable to ask for help—I who always felt like I was drowning. Maybe that's why I kept my mouth closed because I wanted to live. If only I could tip the scale in my favor. Everyone would see a different side of me. This person who leads by example, from being last to the front. Oh, what a view. Are you able to see me now? Wondering, did anyone ever take the time to notice? For as long as I could remember, I've been trying to catch up. But truthfully, I wouldn't have made it by myself. You shielded me from the oncoming wind, as I was safely tucked right in. I was led—this willingness to follow.

As our shadows grew, my strength doubled; prepared to take on the obstacles ahead. Of the things tried and failed, it served as a lesson. Showed and gave me the smarts to somehow take it on another way. Spared me from getting my feelings hurt—wide awake and undeniably still dreaming. You allowed me to regain my breath. With the wind now in my face, my shirt this tattered sail. Sure feels good to step out from the shadows, as I craved this light of a new day. However, I'm the same person beneath this skin of which there's no escaping. To be defined as being human there must be a touch of mercy received then given, a genuine care for others. Realize there's no need for anyone to worry, take the time to look back. Just recall how far you came and observe those who are trying to get there; it merely takes a few seconds. You don't have to fear; your place is divinely secure. It's the purity of our hearts that's in question.

Why, kindness doesn't change. Having a better position should make it easier. I try helping those who I could save. Still, the belief is coupled with the need of being rescued. When someone finally realizes they're in dire straits. A hidden fact marred by their meaning. Perhaps that's why we're born to swim, no longer alone along our troubled seas. But to attain peace, you must be able to tread two sides. First, by having the ability to listen, even if you used your eyes instead. Just watch me from where and how I stand. Rightfully so, you wouldn't be that far-off in the long run. Truly, our existence is not a sprint, when the emphasis is placed on being first. What about the people you pass on by, their missed worth. It's that unexpected stranger who could suddenly bring about a change in you and then in each other. Without having the fear of dropping a baton. It's jaw-dropping, heart-wrenching, eye-popping; didn't you practice cling-clang—awed even in a crowded stadium. From that moment on, it's a walk together. Forgive me, I forgot about those who are dead set on being first; it's their longing. It's a lonely attempt at going nowhere fast; just ask Adam. A rib had to be taken from him while he slept. But in their case, they can only hope and pray it's not by a fall; it's a more painful and embarrassing situation. Especially if it's in the same stadium, but a united response. Did you see how his… Now you fill in the blanks. Second, to return what you've heard and seen, mimic their actions thereof. Counter them with a Yes and a Thank you, I understand what you said. It's a bridge crossed no matter where you are, a desired goal reached. Then pie your neighbor off with love; it's the sweetest sugar. An emotion that resides in our hearts, how can it be the wrong recipe? So let us gather around then and spend some time amidst our certainties. As with each breath, there's absolutely a chance for living and loving. And for those who still have any doubts, please go ahead; feel free to jump right on in. Only then, I wouldn't mind the ripples.

Please, Lord, just make it stop. This hurt I now feel that lingers inside my heart. Like a sickness to which there is no cure, growing in these aging bones. The stories I hold and, with it, my past, silenced by their shame. Hidden from the light of day and hushed if questioned. Why the trust in someone goes so far? Only to find out that dishonesty goes much farther. So to know better is to do better, but I've been bested more than once. Though I've always tried with all my guile and might to protect myself from any misfortune. Who would have thought the walls I built up throughout the years could fail me? Maybe it was a mistake to use the spoils from my past to erect a wiser me. Foolish to think my measly mud might hold. Or could it be we're victims fallible by our own nature? Faced down in the constructs of our sadness. Bound to the dangers ahead and leveled with the dirt we laid upon. These so-called stronger walls against thieves. The countless tears that ensued, now left with the ordeal of turning back these soaked and tattered pages.

My happiness was stolen before my eyes. I always thought something magical is supposed to bring a smile to your face. Then you're in awe of how they did it. As inquisitive minds would want to witness it all over again. Basically, to revisit the same learned response we've gone goo-goo gaga over and played with since being born. It's déjà vu we crave. Pulled in even closer, as most guess and think everything will be okay. Grounded by habits we take on even throughout our childhood. The mistake of being caught up in the now. Blind to the cost living implies the hows and the whys. Gambled on forever, by pushing my heart all in. Lured by a smile and three words once. Kind of like this situation when that many cards are faced down, the value of a stranger. Words claiming, You can win! The dreamer in us verses the jokers we turn out to be. Guessing with our fingers crossed, it's going to be all right. Why, in both settings, the switch is always slight handed. You never see it coming; it hits hard. Marked by a wave and a sinking feeling deep down in your stomach. Why the answers to a sudden goodbye or the slip of the hand are unseen. Misled by an opening and gasping for air in the middle. Where and why my heart is lost to an end. This outcome should have been avoided. Just by adhering to the pain I felt from the lessons previously learned. For in the past, I've played with fire, been burned. Touched that outlet and got shocked. Those things I never did again. But love is different; it takes and warms you in its sun. Even if you plummeted back to Earth, maimed or destroyed. It's still a world above all others.

Strangely, I can't define it by words or much less place my finger on when I started to feel this way once again. This tempest called love exceeded my expectations. It easily blew down each door made for safekeeping and filled each room with peace. Caught me in the dark, then I was set free to roam in its light. As each day's advancements were quite pleasing. Yet I assumed otherwise. His walk said predator. As if he was surveying the plains, the opposition, and their ways. By the lengths of each stride to the depths of each step, there's a story to be told. Of their burdens carried defines men and cowardly lions. But whose eager and willing to show themselves, to give their position away. When the weight placed on each phrase can spoil the hunt. For the difference between choke and chew is life, those needs and wants we care to hide. Beneath beard and mane there lurks the risk of a barefaced lie. So who's reared on the truth or the slip of the tongue. Brought up on the teachings learned from their fathers. Or a mother who has taken on the role because their mate has opted to cut tail and run. Why kings, gentlemen, and naïve differ, wisdom has it grades. To be a descent, caring, and loving man or being a self-centered, selfish, disrespectful, and lusting one. When ears stick to what they've heard, hands crave the touch of a woman, mouths learn to enjoy the taste of it, noses find themselves minding someone else's business, then eyes covet what they see. The latter being the most significant one of them all. Blind at birth and is always trying to rally for being last. Hear them as they connive or imagine each one thinking how this earth is a better place. Because having them here is a farce, far-fetched and deliberate. Their speech defies all reason and common sense.

A trap is set up right below our noses. For in a game of tag with lairs, the first person who blinks is it, bated breath and caught. The second I inhaled, I was singled out from a great big forest. With them shouting, Just look at the plants, trees, and fruits in dire need of tending! The pick of the wicked is flowers first. Each more probable to fall, their footing gives way in the ground. With the likelihood of ever being able to get back up. Of being pulled from their roots and stripped of their petals. Stomped by one feeling they've known since birth. A slow and awful end, the broken. Next are all the oaks, spruces, or pines. Each grown without any edible or suitable harvest, unless you're a squirrel. Scurried to and from with any sign or sight of danger. While leaves and needles are rustled by the slightest wind and man alike. There for the taking and cut down to size. Houses and coffins are built the same way, to live or die in such comforts. Ashes and dust are the only thing that remains, the unfortunates. Lastly are the fruits, a cue to mind our manners. For there's no fling or swing around my children; those days are gone. Plucked from limbs, as the shades of one's leaves are taken away, in plain sight for all to take notice. Whether their freshness is seen or sought after. Agreed by a woman's immoral behavior. Their price for indulging in certain sins will go up, more so than ever before. Since they've been taught right from wrong and are now on the edge of becoming a teacher. As the weight of every breath favorably tips the scale in favor of any expecting or entitled mother. When awareness is raised, and her lows are removed. It's a tougher task for the charlatans who attempts to convince a changed person otherwise. They're still not using their heads; it's a given right. Disregards a women's body as it is being driven by hormones with a purpose. Is it not best to stand clear? When roadkill would be a less painful end. Then there's also the issue of finding an agreeable time to carry out such horrible acts. Mindless creatures hard at work, stooped low and getting used to it. The fire is becoming hotter as they think their wants supersedes a family's needs; this webbing that holds them together. Stuck with the chore of trying to pull them apart. It's a posed question with no wrong answers. Who would you save if you had to choose? See the tall apple tree over in the clearing. He's my children's father. He would be sawdust instead of cider. So you're ultimately asking, Whose eyes would I prefer to look into for the rest of their life's? This guilt with me for the rest of mine. Here you are, an average joe. And I dislike the taste of coffee. Of words intensified, describes the way their flesh will be dealt with. Surprised by flames, along with the same response, Hell no! Swift and focused, putting them down immediately. Make their knees buckle, to have thought satin and lace. Instead, fill up the empty space between their ears with a sermon. Why a mother's language rallies change. For not too long ago or in the future will bring forth new life, the givers. This opportunity for everyone who care to listen. Here stands man, lower beast, atop the mountainside grazed sheep. Which one is closer to heaven and is keen on making the walk? These deceivers are likely to see if their trade is less taxing down the street at another market.

Gaze now on regal and nobility, these pageantries forthwith. Their common practice is one of good deeds. Tamed are such egos, as it's apparent they'll possess more pride in themselves. To do what's right signifies proof, an open book awaiting and ready to be read. What's missing is the why others prefer to listen. No fault of theirs, for even the truth sometimes fall on deaf ears. For our secrets aren't meant to be kept, the weight of their woes. These afflictions stored to home is a rocky journey. The constant pause of being fatigued or the sudden burst of anger which damns all to hell. Thank God there's a constant reprieve throughout our walk. Joined by the people we meet and their seasons. Gathered are such coins until the appointed time. Along an unknown course, brought about by the lefts and the rights we choose to take. Those faint nudges or whispers around shoulder height. Of having the smarts, we sometimes lack in making the correct decisions. They turn out to be the angels keeping us out of peril. Whether it's advice about your relations, endeavors, doubts, or that one time you wanted to live on the edge. For sometimes we forget who we are and try to take on things that doesn't define us. When a sudden choice could be grave and missed. Reminded then on stone of who you were. Why the cost for living is divinely placed in someone else's hands. As the price of the ferry is avoided and keeps you on the merry. Kept on our pursuit for a sequence of words, phrased then bound to them. To feel their rapture—faint, heard, and purposeful as they are. Like, Let me help you hold that. A long-desired breath to release the tension from one's hand to head. Bowed and bent over, the revealed air and their crimes. To breathe freely on this day calls to you like no other. The you in us all perceived to be forgotten. At last, we'll escape our prisons, dimly lit and unforgiving. No longer tied to one's chains, but now apt and willing to take on change. From mouth to their freedoms, innocence is gained. So tell me you and don't dare hide the wounds. For I have lived through their lengths and the stench of ravaged skin. Along with the time it takes to heal. This is an easier fix if left open to breathe and spoken aloud. Why history is a thing of the past, there're greater things to come. Brave and expose those burdens once had. When living can always declare who you are.

The more he spoke, the more I realized his heart spoke prey. Of a past he had endured that couldn't change the beat of his heart. Why then did I hesitate, put things off until tomorrow. Usually, I'm the one cracking the whip from each dawn to dusk. Wavered in myself, weary of all the shadows left behind. For in my position, this person who I've become. A meager image of who I truly am. Though he was a different guy, it was the usual start. Fearful I might end up in the same dilemma. Turned from a sun that may have rendered warmth on two silhouettes instead of one. Quaint but reminisced, the number of times he asked me to put my hand in his to hold if just for a second. And I refused him adamantly. As easy as it was, the first of two steps. The second is to let go. For someone cannot ever actually hold on if there's any doubt. To a fault, I awkwardly missed out on such days. These words that echoed louder now than their meaning. For I would say to him, Why are you're always trying to rescue somebody? A phrase I conveyed to him with the same