Two things exist in this world that are not of this world.
Daily they can be found, but not so often are they understood.
They’re thought to be understood, and sometimes even created.
But neither are they grasped by this world, nor created by it.
The first of these two things is light.
Light comes to this world from afar, both daily and nightly.
The world has even figured out ways to recreate light, but lesser versions of it.
True light can neither dim nor extinguish, and it is certainly not of this world.
The second thing not of this world is love.
While in this world love can be found and felt, it is often tainted and temporary.
The world’s version love is shallow, superficial, and selfish.
But true love was brought to us from out of this world.
Only by being shown true love can we know that it exists.
Only by receiving that love are we able to attempt to give it.
The out-of-this-world love never falls short.
Neither does it dim or extinguish.
True love is pure and everlasting.
It is profound, authentic, and selfless.
Out-of-this-world love rejects what the world accepts.
True love loves good and loves well.
Without light and love the world would be a dark, dark place.
It would be darker than it already is.
The world’s cheap imitations of light and love are insufficient.
Thankfully, someone came from out of this world to change that.
When Christ set foot on this earth, light and love had fully arrived.
It’s only by Him that we even have the slightest glimmer of either one.
The world can only grasp a sliver of what His light and His love truly are.
His light and His love are more than this world can fathom.
To be light is to be pure, to possess no ounce of darkness.
To be love is to be perfect, to willingly give oneself for others.
This world neither possesses, nor is capable of creating, either one.
Light and love truly are out of this world.
Between the shadows she prowls,
roaming the streets like they’re hers,
queen of the ravens and owls,
squeezing our sight till it blurs.
The eerie domain her kingdom,
the quivering soul her prize,
she pours her bite over wisdom
and targets the light in our eyes.
The moment we step to the street
she flits to the foot of our stair,
with a snap of her fingers we’re beat
by more than our bones can bear.
We’ve covered with layers our skin,
armored with warmth our soul,
but she always finds her way in,
and knows what takes our toll.
For each she has a poison,
for each she knows where to prick,
from her depths to the surface she’s frozen
and her ice she knows how to stick.
With nothing but a touch we’re blasted,
a mere glance and our gaze goes cold,
not long have the brave even lasted,
the fate of the fallen foretold.
But I won’t be taken by her rigor,
by the ice that flows through her veins,
I’ve got blood that pulses with a vigor
that’ll tear through her icy chains.
When I walk down the streets alone
I feel on my lungs her grasp,
but my fire’s not hers to own
and this flame shall not be my last.
I refuse to succumb to her cold,
I’ll neither surrender to her death,
for ablaze is my glistening soul,
proven by the smoke of my breath.
Her cold may covet my soul,
her darkness may envy my light.
but I’ll not be one of those
that goes to her wintry night…