Back to the Future

I time warped the other night. I'm not sure how it happened, but it did. I didn't even have the flux capacitor, so I'm still trying to figure out just how this phenomenon occurred.

Here's what happened:

I was standing at The Auricle, waiting for the band, Paper Route, to go on. It had been a good night so far, and I was excited for Paper Route's set. My phone had been gradually dying throughout the night, so I'd turned it off. I decided to pull it out of my pocket to check the time though. So I turned it on, and much to my surprise, the screen read "8:02 pm, Sat., January 5th, 1980".

I stared at the screen for a moment in disbelief. How could this be? I didn't feel the time warp, and the scene didn't even seem to have changed. I realized before I did anything else I needed to document this. So I tried to take a clear picture of the screen of my phone. This is the closest I could come:

After a while, I looked at the screen again and the time and date had returned to normal. I'd time warped back. All I have figured out thus far is that my cell phone's battery dying must have caused something that resulted in my time travel. I have yet to figure out how this works, but I have begun my research.

In the meantime, I have some shopping to do. I think it's about time for me to cross "Buy a DeLorean" off of my bucket list.

Your Love is Water

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Your love is water; it clears us of this deed.

Your blood stains white and makes me clean.

The water is red, and rushes over me,

Letting me drown in You.

Though just a drop on my tongue

Can quench this unquenchable thirst

And erase this despicable sin.

Jean and Jeremiah cry, “What have I done?”

“Was habe ich gemacht?”

The harsh sound of reality becomes familiar,

Rushing in my ears,

But replaced by Your love.

As you breathe your fragrance on me,

The breath of life anew

Enters into my soul, fresh and blue,

My body no longer a vessel for sin,

Hell-bound and heavy,

Now buoyant in Your spring.

But the look in the glims is still dead;

I’m still sunk.

The eyes are still murky and they never will clear,

Not for thousands of tears

That you brush off my cheeks.

I will stand at the baggage claim gripping my guilt

With white knuckles

And never let go.

With my gun to my head,

Chicago lightning,

The blame is fired at me,

And You can’t put it out.

It’s much harder to forgive yourself.

The Britannica is sinking.

That girl, she is fragile.

It’s in you she should let herself drown.

Your love is water and it whispers to me,

If I breathe in, my lungs will be full

With the life-giving liquid

That will open my heart and my eyes to forgiveness,

To You.

To live underwater, forever,

A shipwreck accepted by He who is strong,

Gives me peace like a river

And grace like an ocean.

Your love washes over me, making me new.