It’s All a Matter of Faith

Yeah, it’s kind of funny a guy who writes under the pen name “Archangel” is writing about faith. I can’t even tell you how many times people have asked me, “What’s an Archangel?” I just smile and tell them, “They’re messengers, defenders,  believers, but most of all mysterious.”

But it doesn’t escape me that I can’t write under this name if I’m not going to at least be the embodiment of what the entity actually is. While I understand that fact, those who know me know that it has never been part of my nature to be one who is really into his faith. I believe in what I believe in because of what I have experienced and what I have been taught, but how I chose to believe and how I chose to live my life is still up to me.

That is one of the major problems with religion in this day and age. We’re so lost in the idea that if we don’t follow The Bible word for word that when our time is finally up, St. Peter will look over our life and if we did one thing out of place that we didn’t feel we should do, we will not be granted access into Heaven.

I, using the title that I call myself, don’t believe this in the slightest. I believe that our faith will define us as a person. The morals that we hold dear and how we treat others will be how we are seen in the eyes of God and those who watch us from Heaven.

It’s for that very reason that I don’t claim a religion. You see, religions make you follow so many different rules that I just can’t get into. Church for the most part is just a chore. Have you ever noticed that there are some people who go to church in these days mostly because it is out of habit? They aren’t getting anything out of it. I wasn’t raised to go to church every single day, but I wasn’t raised without the understanding that I don’t do anything in this world without God watching over me. The things that I do against myself and against people will be the evidence that is used when I make my final journey from this world and into the eternal realm that is Heaven or Hell.

The other thing that I never understood was confession. I don’t understand why it was that God needed a middle man. If God says that I can come to him for any reason and at any time, why is it that I need to report my sins to a preacher? I think telling God that I’m truly sorry for the things that I’ve done and am asking for forgiveness from him directly should be good enough. What does the preacher or deacon want? Is it in the event that he should die before me that he’ll speak to God or St. Peter on my behalf? I don’t think so.

What angers me more than anything is when Christians try to convert people forcefully. When you are a believer in God or in any religion, I don’t believe that you have the moral right to try to convert as many people to your side as possible. When a man or woman realizes that they aren’t anything without God in their lives and they need to be around people who believe the same way, that is the power of God. That is the power of faith. When we realize for ourselves that we cannot function in this world without knowing that there is a force out there that is watching over us and will help us if we ask for it and are deserving.

I know there might be some of you who are probably skeptics and are saying “You can’t make me believe in something you can’t prove to me exists.” You’re absolutely right. But that’s what I’m trying to say. It’s not up to me to prove to you that God exists. It’s not up to any of his followers to prove to you that he exists. It’s completely up to you. But you do not have the moral right to tell me that I’m crazy for believing in something that I cannot see or touch anymore than I have the right to tell you that you’re going to go straight to hell if you don’t find God.

So if I don’t claim a religion, how can I possibly follow God? That’s easy. I don’t have to follow a religion to believe in God. All I have to do is have faith. My faith makes me a believer, not my religion. If there is one truth that is evident in this world, it’s that faith was a fantastic idea until we decided to make it into a religion. Man’s need to be social has caused him to ruin so many things. Having faith is one of them. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with  having a religion. If you need to have that in your life then that’s wonderful. What I’m saying is that you don’t need to have one if you just want to believe. You don’t need to say, “I’m Christian, I’m Catholic, I’m Baptist, I’m Methodist.” What you need to tell people is, “I’m a believer. I believe that if I do right unto people and I live my life to the best that God has given me the wisdom, knowledge, and the ability to live, then in his eyes I honor him by doing good in my life.”

I won’t have a problem joining you on a Sunday morning at church and listening to a sermon. But do not expect me to help you convert the masses. Do not expect me to stand on street corners in front of bars or in front of rallies of people who go against what your religion says is wrong and tell everyone that they’re going to Hell and they need to believe like you do. Even those people who don’t believe like you can have faith. They have the faith to know that one day, you won’t see them as different from you because they think a different way. One day… one day we’ll stop and ask ourselves, “Do I really want to know the meaning of life? Or did someone already tell me and I missed the point?”

Early to bed, Early To Rise....

These last few days haven't been easy. Not only am I bored as hell, I'm litterally haunted by images from my past. The only thing I can actually describe it as is loosing something you really loved. Then days after you loose it, everything that you see reminds you of that one thing. That's what it's been like for me these past few days. In fact, that's what it's been like for me since the end of the summer.

That's how someone knows they love something a lot. When after it's gone, it's the only thing you want back. Nothing else seems to matter. My world has felt empty for the past few months and I think that's just the way I'm going to feel for a long time. Empty.

However long it's going to take me to undo the "thing" that is wrong with me, I'm going to have to live through. Whether or not I'm returned what was taken from me is another story. The truth is, I'm learning alot about myself now that this "thing" is gone. I'm able to see how much pain it caused me and how much it used me for all that I was worth and then looked for an oppertunity to get rid of me. However, I don't so much that it was waiting so much as something else in the midsts who was hoping to find some way to get rid of me.

Most of you are reading this right now and thinking to yourselves, "What the hell is he talking about?" I wouldn't blame you. Sometimes I have no idea what I'm talking about, but somehow that's going to all change soon.

One of the best parts about being a writer is being able to create characters at will. The true way that we do it is to adapt our characters from people that we have actually met or heard about in real life. This process seems to be the most easiest for me. I've met soom pretty colorful people in my few 22 years of life. Most of which were nice people just very colorful.

I say this for the fact that there is one evil thing about writers that no one ever thinks about. I've got a shirt that speaks bundles when it says, "Careful or you'll end up in my novel." That's exactly what I'm talking about. A writer's ultimate power is to take the people that he hates more than anything and to create a character that he/she can do as they wish. Once the project is done, the writer is able to sit back and have a good laugh at what he's done to the character based on the "asshole".

A project that I started a while ago is now back in process. After everything that happened this summer I didn't feel it necessary to continue it since the characters I created were actual people who I no longer have contact with. (Getting the picture yet?) But now that I've had the time to think it over and place my emotions to the side, all I'm left with now is the bullshit they left behind. So that's what I intend to do. You see, writer's analyze people before they ever concider what kind of character they would make in a story. I had six years to figure these people out and they never bothered to do the same to me. Now, I've got six years of fustration and I think some revenge is in order.

Project: Summer is now in full swing and I hope to have it complete fairly soon since I have most of the parts created. This book I will make available to as many markets as I can. Until then, still expect me to post stuff on here as usual. I know most of you are enjoying the poetry and as long as you enjoy it and come by and read it, I will keep giving you what you want. As a music performer, I know the most important part of the show is to give the audience what they want.

This next poem is about the one thing I had to learn how to do a long time ago, say "good-bye". There are lots of things that we say everyday now that we say because we feel we should, but we never stop to actually realize what we're saying and how much power it used to have. Take for instance: I love you. I've heard that a few times in my life and I realize now that those who said it to me, besides my parents, never actually truely meant it. Kinda sucks when you reach that point in your life when you understand how fake some people can be. And that's what this angel feels like in my poem.

Saying Good-Bye

Waiting to say good-bye
has always been the hardest for me.
From the day it all ended,
to the day I learned that our beginning
would lead to and end.

The war has left us
lost and alone.
and lost in a desert,
whose only known tenant is a star
who wishes no one looks upon.

You looked at me
and blew me kisses from afar.
I saw you walk into that tunnel of nothing.
Walking to a bird made my man
that tries to reach the heavens
that don't exist for the living.

For years, I was that part of you
that you adored like the song of the angel
that fell from the sky. Where is the love
you showed to me then? Is it where
you're going now?

I look through the shield
that keeps me from touching you,
from telling you, from loving you.
What is something so unyielding
that not even love may pass through it?
It's the steel of the hammer
that's breaking my heart.

I will keep my confession from you.
A symbol of my faultless epiphany which,
if I would have paid more attention to,
would have kept me from this moment in time.

It is, has been, and always will be
my curse.
It started from the beginning,
yet it gave no sign of and end. So could it be
that this is death? Could this be
the continuous, never-ending, beginning of my
melancholy way of life?

They say there is a light at the end
of every dark tunnel. But I just saw you leave
in a tunnel that was dark enough to swallow you whole
and then make sure you should not find your way out.
What kind of a tunnel is that? What kind of tunnel
lets you go forward, but not back?

I see you leave the earth on steel wings
that would not let any holy being fly in Heaven.
The walls around me close and there is nothing
but an opening to the sky above me.


God, damn these clipped wings!
What purpose do they serve if they don't let me fly,
if I can not wrap those in them who need me by there side?
What good is this sword of flame you give to your soldiers
if the shield you give them doesn't even protect them
from the fallacies of life, love, and friendship?

WHAT GOOD IS A MORTAL SOUL TO AN ANGEL
TO MAKE HIM HUMAN
IF THE ONES HE LOVES, CARES FOR,
WOULD DIE FOR, GIVE UP HIS SEAT IN HEAVEN FOR, AND MAKE HIM WISH NOT TO GO HOME,
DON'T LOVE HIM BACK!?

WHAT ARE THESE WORDS I CRY FOR?!
THEY ARE THE WORDS OF A MORTAL,
TO WHICH THOSE WHO RIDE ON STEEL WINGS
HAVE TURNED A DEAF EAR TO!

THEY ARE THE WORDS OF AN ANGEL,
THAT NO ONE WILL READ,
WHO HAS LOWERED HIS SHIELD AND SWORD
TO BE MORTAL AND DO AS MORTALS DO
ONLY TO FIND THAT MORTALS ARE CRUEL CREATURES!

LET THEM HAVE DIVINE LOVE!
LET THEM HAVE THE GRACE OF OUR FATHER!
BUT MAKE ME A FULL MORTAL
SO THAT I MAY HAVE IT TOO!

I snap back.
You're gone from my view for who knows how long.

On the other side of the shield
a drop of water falls.
Is it rain, is it a water spot?
I will never know, but
to look through it from the other side,
would look like a tear from me.

Let someone else carry my sword and shield tonight.
Tonight, I sleep as a mortal and I leave my questions behind.
Lord knows, you have already.

Until next time.