Love

An epistolary collection of an anxious attacher as of June 1, 2026 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

Complete List of RSP/DCG Signed Posts

  1. A Leap of Faith
    • Published: October 25, 2017
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2017/10/25/a-leap-of-faith/
    • Summary: A poem about the complex legacy parents leave their children — particularly the emotional wounds children carry when parents fail to show love. It speaks to the need for recognition, healing, and passing on a legacy of love rather than pain.

• Closing Signoff:  DCG 

  1. My Morning Prayer
    • Published: January 30, 2018
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2018/01/30/my-morning-prayer/
    • Summary: A romantic and spiritual poem about longing for connection with someone whose presence feels like medicine — a healing angel. The author reflects on loneliness and the desire to share time with this person as a kind of morning prayer.

• Closing Signoff:  DCG 

  1. No Matter How you Define Austere
    • Published: October 16, 2018
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2018/10/16/no-matter-how-you-define-austere/
    • Summary: A reflective poem about working 35 years for an employer, navigating workplace politics and corruption, and persevering through trials with faith. It speaks to endurance and wisdom drawn from hardship.

• Closing Signoff:  DCG

The first Poem
It’s a deeply personal piece written in short, free-verse stanzas — structured as a journey from wounded childhood to adult reckoning and, ultimately, a choice toward love.
What It Means
The poem traces a psychological arc rooted in childhood emotional neglect. It opens with children questioning their own worthiness of love — a feeling shaped by their parents’ inability to bridge the emotional gap. This maps closely to ambivalent/anxious attachment theory, a theme consistent with much of my blog’s work.
The middle section is viscerally interior — a child lying awake at night, frightened, numbing out, finding small comfort in the hum of a fan. There’s no rescuer, no safe adult. The child fights alone in the dark.
The turn comes in the final stanzas: that same child, now an adult, faces life with hard-won but still fragile awareness. The “leap of faith” is the central act — choosing to believe in love and goodness despite a history of diminishing returns. It’s not naive optimism; it’s a conscious, courageous decision to love those around me anyway, as the greatest gift I can give.
Core Themes
• Childhood emotional wounding and the intergenerational cycle of unmet needs
• Ambivalent attachment — the numbing, the fear, the aloneness
• Redemption through love — not as something received, but as something chosen and given
• The existential act of faith as resistance against a painful past
It’s one of my earlier pieces, and it reads like a foundational statement of the philosophy that runs through my broader body of work.

  1. You always bring out in me
    • Published: July 17, 2023
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2023/07/17/you-always-bring-out-in-me/
    • Summary: A poem written to RSP about a brief interaction — she came in, said hi, and bought lunch — that sparked deep appreciation. The author reflects on how positivity and genuine connection lift the spirit and bring out the best in him.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. If you leave your heart open
    • Published: August 9, 2023
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2023/08/09/if-you-leave-your-heart-open/
    • Summary: A poem about the possibility of love when one remains emotionally open. The author reflects on respecting those who choose solitude while expressing his belief that shared life is more fulfilling, and extends that sentiment toward RSP.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. As this is what I want to share
    • Published: November 5, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/05/as-this-is-what-i-want-to-share/
    • Summary: A poem expressing the author’s desire to get to know RSP better, not to change her life but simply to share in it. He acknowledges a mysterious, natural connection and hopes they can spend time together.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The unexpected delight of what you perceive
    • Published: November 13, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/13/the-unexpected-delight-of-what-you-perceive/
    • Summary: A poem comparing the feeling of new love to the anticipation of Christmas morning — the warmth, the joy, the gift of perception and hope. It reflects on the thrill of beginning a new chapter while forgiving the past.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. We accept the love we think we deserve
    • Published: November 15, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/15/we-accept-the-love-we-think-we-deserve/
    • Summary: A poem about self-sabotage in love — how people close doors to opportunity because they don’t believe they deserve better. The author encourages RSP (and himself) to wrestle with the subconscious and open up to what friendship and love can offer.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I don’t know what the future holds
    • Published: November 16, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/16/i-dont-know-what-the-furure-holds/
    • Summary: A prayer-poem in which the author surrenders the future to God while expressing hope that the people he cares about (including RSP) are part of God’s plan. He expresses stubborn hope and believes that “kindred spirits” may come to a shared understanding.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. There is a battle going on inside us
    • Published: December 1, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/01/there-is-a-battle-going-on-inside-us/
    • Summary: A poem where DCG describes noticing RSP’s happy smile while sensing her hidden vulnerabilities. He speaks to the internal battle between opening up and self-protection, and invites her to allow him to share what he sees in her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The secret of my affection
    • Published: December 5, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/05/the-secret-of-my-affection/
    • Summary: A poem about attraction without agenda — the author’s affection for RSP is described as pure, without manipulation or expectation. He simply wants to communicate how he feels and leave the choice to her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. This emotional embargo
    • Published: December 8, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/08/this-emotional-embargo/
    • Summary: A poem about the emotional cage people build around themselves to avoid vulnerability — described as an “emotional embargo.” The author encourages mustering courage to break the cycle of avoidance, noting that the imagined danger is often not as bad as feared.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. When your love becomes a gift
    • Published: December 14, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/14/when-your-love-becomes-a-gift/
    • Summary: A poem reflecting on the dual nature of love — how it can heal and hurt. The author tells RSP that when genuine love is offered, it becomes a gift even to broken hearts, though it may send a guarded heart adrift if not received.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. If you see what I can see
    • Published: December 25, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/25/if-you-see-what-i-can-see/
    • Summary: A Christmas poem to RSP about love — patient, kind, forgiving, and blind. The author wants to understand her sorrow and silences, compares her smile to Cupid’s arrow, and says he wouldn’t be blamed for trying, even if it’s not meant to be.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. If you wear your heart on your sleeve
    • Published: January 29, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/01/29/if-you-wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve/
    • Summary: A poem about the vulnerability of wearing one’s heart openly — the risk of pain, the temptation to build walls, but ultimately the author’s conviction that it’s better to live genuinely and be brave than to hide in emotional safety.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I’ll prove every day that you can trust me
    • Published: March 2, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/02/ill-prove-every-day-that-you-can-trust-me/
    • Summary: A poem of commitment and attraction — the author tells RSP he is drawn to her electric presence and promises daily effort to earn her trust, ending with the confession that he genuinely cares and is sending these messages because of that care.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It takes two to tango
    • Published: March 3, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/03/it-takes-two-to-tango/
    • Summary: A poem about the playful, flirtatious side of romantic pursuit — the author admits he’s a hopeless romantic who chases what he wants with laughter. He reflects on the dynamics of friendship and love and the healthy “friction” between two souls.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. At least that is what I’ve been told
    • Published: March 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/08/at-least-that-is-what-ive-been-told/
    • Summary: A poem about how happiness is measured by the quality of our relationships. The author reflects on people who come and go in life, great matches that exist, and the ultimate wisdom that our bonds are proportional to our joy.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. At least I gave it a shot
    • Published: March 21, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/21/at-least-i-gave-it-a-shot/
    • Summary: A poem about the mental weariness of confusion and maladaptive thinking born from following pride rather than wisdom. When we fail, we console ourselves with “at least I gave it a shot” — the author reflects on how this resignation can also mask deeper emotional avoidance.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I self sabotage
    • Published: March 25, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/25/i-self-sabotage/
    • Summary: A confessional poem about self-sabotage rooted in guilt, shame, and a difficult childhood. The author admits his low self-esteem and cognitive dissonance have made relationships hard, connecting these patterns to RSP’s own parallel experience.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. With every prayer
    • Published: April 20, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/04/20/with-every-prayer/
    • Summary: A spiritual poem in which DCG prays for strength, courage, wisdom, and forgiveness. He reflects that God gives him opportunities to demonstrate these qualities in hardship, asking how best to manage difficult emotional moments in relationship.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. A one-sided love affair
    • Published: April 28, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/04/28/a-one-sided-love-affair/
    • Summary: A poem about the pain of unrequited love — the burn even a saint feels when emotion erupts and there is nowhere to turn. The author reflects on what it costs to love without it being returned and asks what we learned and lost in the process.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. And so goes our training
    • Published: May 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/05/06/and-so-goes-our-training/
    • Summary: A poem encouraging openness in sharing feelings despite fear of rejection. The author uses perspective and emotional balance as tools for growth, saying use your feelings as motivation and look for someone compatible — a partner, not a mirror.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It warms my heart
    • Published: May 7, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/05/07/it-warms-my-heart/
    • Summary: A warm poem in which DCG tells RSP it warms his heart when she expresses herself to him — her excitement about a new job, her energy. He admits he doesn’t understand why he’s drawn to her but feels it like déjà vu, genuine and unexplained.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Why are we so confused?
    • Published: May 12, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/05/12/why-are-we-so-confused/
    • Summary: A poem about meeting a “kindred spirit” and recognizing shared childhood wounds — anxious vs. dismissive attachment. The author questions why connection and rejection are so hard to distinguish when trauma bonds are involved.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Am I allowed to express what I feel?
    • Published: June 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/06/am-i-allowed-to-express-what-i-feel/
    • Summary: A vulnerable poem about being emotionally imprisoned — an “emotional straight jacket” formed in childhood by emotionally impoverished parents. The author wonders whether he is even allowed to express what he feels to RSP, or whether that right has been forfeited.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Anxious attachment
    • Published: June 20, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/20/anxious-attachment/
    • Summary: A poem about the trap of anxious attachment — the cycle of seeking approval rooted in unresolved childhood wounds. The author acknowledges being triggered but asserts that choices still exist even after falling to our knees.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Because this is my heart’s echo
    • Published: June 27, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/27/because-this-is-my-hearts-echo/
    • Summary: A poem about feeling less empty and more purposeful when RSP is in his heart and thoughts. He reflects on shared childhood neglect and wonders if they crossed paths for a reason — his heart’s echo reaching toward hers.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It’s your spirit that’s longing to suffer no more
    • Published: June 27, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/27/its-your-spirit-thats-longing-to-suffer-no-more/
    • Summary: A forgiveness poem written “— for Robyn —” encouraging RSP to release old pain and resentment. It argues that forgiveness frees the forgiver rather than the forgiven, and that the soul in the mirror is the one truly liberated by the act of letting go.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG  (poem dedicated “— for Robyn —”)

  1. Doesn’t always mean what it seems
    • Published: July 1, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/01/doesnt-always-mean-what-it-seems/
    • Summary: A poem about bottled emotion — the author has “all this emotion” but must keep it locked away because RSP doesn’t want to hear it. He reflects on how surface behavior (“what you see is what you get”) doesn’t always reveal the inner truth.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. My nervous system has been hijacked
    • Published: July 2, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/02/my-nervous-system-has-been-hijacked/
    • Summary: A poem/reflection on how childhood family dynamics hijack the nervous system and shape adult emotional responses. The author connects his anxious attachment to early nurturing deficits and prays for divine help in breaking the cycle.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. However, it turns out
    • Published: July 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/08/however-it-turns-out/
    • Summary: A spiritually committed poem in which DCG says his heart, soul, and mind are committed to this path, leaving the outcome to God. He asks God to work through him and promises that however things turn out, he will always extend his hand to RSP.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. One built for me and you
    • Published: July 9, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/09/one-built-for-me-and-you/
    • Summary: A poem about the painful paradox of getting close to someone who pulls away — the closer he gets, the farther she drifts. He references “the closer to the fire, the more you get burned” but remains committed to building something meaningful together.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I believe in you
    • Published: July 10, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/10/i-believe-in-you/
    • Summary: A poem of faith and affirmation directed at RSP — the author believes in her ability against an unfair world, references shared California memories (OB, South Beach), and tells her that her charms are not lost on him.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. One that we host
    • Published: July 11, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/11/one-that-we-host/
    • Summary: A poem about the social masks people wear — walking on eggshells, not knowing who to trust, dressing up and flirting to cover loneliness. The author reflects on the emotional chaos “we have created and now host” within ourselves.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Heal with me RP
    • Published: July 18, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/18/heal-with-me-rp/
    • Summary: A poem addressed directly to “RP” (RSP) about two damaged people meeting at the right moment. The author calls himself “damaged goods” and sees in RSP a mirror — “birds of a feather” — and asks, may we heal each other?

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I filled in all the missing parts
    • Published: July 27, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/27/i-filled-in-all-the-missing-parts/
    • Summary: A poem about the gendered paradox of attraction — women fall in love with what they hear, men with what they see. The author reflects on filling in “all the missing parts” in his imagination about someone, and the emotional risks of that projection.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Despite our perplexity
    • Published: October 1, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/01/despite-our-perplexity/
    • Summary: A philosophical poem about how reason and self-reflection are the best diagnostic tools available to us. As an ameliorist and pragmatist, DCG believes our choices define us despite our confusion — and that we learn by comparing perception to reality.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. When your confidence is shrouded by insecurity
    • Published: October 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/06/when-your-confidence-is-shrouded-by-insecurity/
    • Summary: A poem about how unhealed emotional wounds prevent growth — the shame of bottled pain reigns over the subconscious and prevents resolution. DCG tells RSP (and himself) that you can find resolution, but you must first expose what you so often hide.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The fragile triumph
    • Published: October 18, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/18/the-fragile-triumph/
    • Summary: A poem about the human condition — we “wake as gods with trembling hands,” building thrones on fleeting dreams. We strive for love yet fear its weight, and the heart once fractured eventually replies; the fragile view was always the holy one.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. How can I be a part of the solution?
    • Published: October 20, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/20/how-can-i-be-a-part-of-the-solution/
    • Summary: A poem about forgiveness as a razor’s edge — knowing when to forgive and when to walk away. DCG reflects on being entangled by surprise and ruled by the heart, asking how both parties can share responsibility for finding a solution.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. You won’t know until the silence hit you
    • Published: October 31, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/31/you-wont-know-until-the-silence-hit-you/
    • Summary: A poem confronting passive-aggressive, dismissive-avoidant denial — the “quickest path of victimhood.” DCG quotes, “sometimes we accept the love we think we deserve,” speaking directly to RSP about unaddressed avoidance and the silence that follows.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Breathe deeply
    • Published: November 5, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/05/breathe-deeply/
    • Summary: A poem about releasing anxiety and trauma through forgiveness and deep breathing. Pain holds on relentlessly, but faith and the willingness to let go of drama are the path to freedom — breathe deeply, face the truth.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I’m trying to seek approval
    • Published: November 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/06/im-trying-to-seek-approval/
    • Summary: A confessional poem about how the author’s absent, neglectful father created a trauma bond that drives compulsive approval-seeking in adulthood. He acknowledges this is common and names John Bowlby’s attachment theory as the psychological framework behind it.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG  (RSP addressed in context)

  1. However, it may lead I will always find my faith
    • Published: November 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/08/however-it-may-lead-i-will-always-find-my-faith/
    • Summary: A poem to RSP — DCG tells her he knows she is feeling angry and resigned, and that her coping strategy of avoidance will not bring her peace. His heart breaks watching her struggle but he will always find his faith wherever the path leads.
    • Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG
  1. Scar tissue
    • Published: November 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/08/scar-tissue/
    • Summary: A poem of patient, faithful waiting — the author waits “beneath the weight of hollow years,” burning with prayer and tracing the path forward through scar tissue. Even if the way is lined with dread, he will walk it until it leads to her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The quiet between them
    • Published: November 9, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/09/the-quiet-between-them/
    • Summary: A short story/prose poem about Adrian (DCG) and a woman with avoidant attachment who goes silent for days. He finally types a message — “Thinking of you. Hope you’re okay” — then erases it. He closes his eyes and wishes he could love without fear, like the wind.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Yet here I stand
    • Published: November 10, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/10/yet-here-i-stand/
    • Summary: A poem of steadfast love — DCG sees RSP’s walls built from pain, recognizes that silence is the language trauma taught her heart, and yet here he stands as a patient guide. He promises to stay through the winters, as long as it takes.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. A walking contradiction
    • Published: November 18, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/18/a-walking-contradiction/
    • Summary: A poem that confronts the confusing, sometimes hurtful messages RSP sends. DCG empathizes with her self-protection but challenges her to self-reflect as well as self-protect — warning that without facing her fear head-on, decay follows.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The parable of the gentle bridge
    • Published: November 22, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/22/the-parable-of-the-gentle-bridge/
    • Summary: A parable about a bridge maker (DCG) who builds bridges for divided souls, including a woman who lives behind glass (RSP). The bridge stands not as a demand but as a possibility — open to her courage, guarded by his quiet strength, never forsaking his post.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. This is the song that I sing
    • Published: December 17, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/17/this-is-the-song-that-i-sing/
    • Summary: A lyrical poem about a wounded heart recognizing familiarity in another wounded heart — RSP. The author says she places walls around her emotions, but that wounded hearts seek familiarity, and she has touched his heart so tenderly — this is the song that I sing.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. R and D
    • Published: December 22, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/22/r-and-d/
    • Summary: A narrative poem explicitly about R (RSP) and D (DCG) — two people with trauma-shaped attachment styles (avoidant and anxious) finding their way toward each other. With steady therapeutic guides and honest conversation, they may learn a bond where both can finally be free.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The quiet charity of loving
    • Published: December 28, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/28/the-quiet-charity-of-loving/
    • Summary: A poem about love as an act of charity — given without guarantee of return. Each wound refines what faith began; love unspent is not in vain; unanswered hearts abide as proof that goodness lingers. Even if RSP never spoke his name, DCG is grateful for the sound.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Forgive and let go of the past
    • Published: December 31, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/31/forgive-and-let-go-of-the-past/
    • Summary: A year-end reflection on rumination and the push-pull of love — she loves me, she loves me not. DCG thinks of RSP and the times that make him hesitate, ultimately counseling himself and her to show the soft underbelly and forgive the past.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It resonates as we
    • Published: January 23, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/01/23/it-resonates-as-we/
    • Summary: A vow poem — the author makes a pledge, says a prayer, and bares his soul, hoping he and RSP can live side by side. He has reached an awareness that a healthy relationship requires boundaries with clout, and is clear-eyed about what both of them need.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. You walked in
    • Published: January 25, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/01/25/you-walked-in/
    • Summary: A poem about the transformative moment RSP walked into his life — she made the room feel wide and listened like it mattered. Even if she doesn’t stay, the craft he learned in loving her will frame the way he loves others; her impact altered how he sees the world.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I want you to know
    • Published: January 30, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/01/30/i-want-you-to-know/
    • Summary: A tender, reassuring poem in which DCG tells RSP: if you need space, I’ll give you grace; if you need to decompress, I won’t hesitate. He is patient and certain that what they have can work.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. And so you run
    • Published: February 1, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/02/01/and-so-you-run/
    • Summary: A poem confronting RSP’s pattern of running away — the author says her behavior has consequences, that silence brings clarity, and that deep inside her something still pleads for connection. He hasn’t given up, but notes she is “emotionally autistic” due to childhood wounds.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The echo of your retreat
    • Published: February 4, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/02/04/the-echo-of-your-retreat/
    • Summary: A deeply introspective poem in which DCG wakes inside the echo of RSP’s silence and builds hope inside her distance. Ultimately he turns inward — the cycle breaks where he begins; forgiving what he cannot heal; steadying his pulse with honest will.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Exit stage left
    • Published: February 16, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/02/16/exit-stage-left/
    • Summary: Written in screenplay format — a dramatic interior scene of D writing unsent letters by candlelight, a cross on the wall, rain on the window. It’s a theatrical rendering of the inner life of the author after RSP withdraws — a stage play of emotional farewell.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. A heart’s whisper
    • Published: March 4, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/03/04/a-hearts-whisper/
    • Summary: A prayer poem subtitled “And so I pray (for RSP).” DCG prays for RSP’s healing and freedom, says if God answers let it be her freed from shame, and if their paths entwine, let it be two warriors laying down the fight — not rescue, just two broken people healing together.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG  (RSP explicitly named in prayer)

  1. In the shadowed dance
    • Published: April 19, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/04/19/in-the-shadowed-dance/
    • Summary: A poem in which R and D dance through Proverbs-inspired imagery — R (dismissive-avoidant) and D (anxious-attached) navigating fear, armor, and vulnerability. Their entwined styles soften through grace, empathy, and forgiveness — RSP in prayer’s hold.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. When solemnity meets absurdity
    • Published: May 20, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/20/when-solemnity-meets-absurdity/
    • Summary: A comedic-philosophical poem about the absurdity of the human condition — praying for wisdom then fighting a parking ticket, telling the mirror to be sincere. Ultimately: the solemn and the strange must meet, and hope still waits around the bend even for bruised, muddy-footed souls.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG 

  1. The case of Dane
    • Published: May 21, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/21/the-case-of-dane/
    • Summary: A third-person poem about “Dane” — DCG’s alter ego — a boy who held a guitar like morning light and grew into a man carrying childhood questions. The poem traces his philosophical, musical, and emotional journey, asking: is God the answer or just the voice still calling Dane home?

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG 

  1. I forgot the world was singing
    • Published: May 22, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/22/i-forgot-the-world-was-singing/
    • Summary: A poem about being lost in worry and “walking half asleep” until the morning calls him back. A friend reminds him the day is still warm, they talk about hopes and small endeavors, and in the present moment — sunlit skin and sea — he promises the world: I see you now.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG 

  1. The dissolution of entropy
    • Published: May 25, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/25/the-dissolution-of-entropy/
    • Summary: A meta-analytical post reviewing the entire RSP/DCG relationship arc across the last two years of the blog. It documents how DCG began with hope that RSP would heal with him, and how the writing gradually discovered he must also heal from the story he built around her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Cliff notes from the heart
    • Published: May 27, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/27/cliff-notes-from-the-heart/
    • Summary: A poem of honest reckoning — DCG built a chapel out of hope, used his prayers to arrange what her silence would not say. Now he faces the truth: love that saves another must not teach him how to lose. He is ready to say goodbye if she cannot reach for lif• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG

📊 Summary Statistics

Note on “RSP”: Based on the June 27, 2025 post “It’s your spirit that’s longing to suffer no more,” which is dedicated ”— for Robyn —”, RSP is a woman named Robyn (last name initials S.P.) with whom DCG (Dean Christian Gunnersen) developed a deep, unrequited or unresolved romantic connection characterized by anxious-attachment (DCG) and dismissive-avoidant attachment (RSP) patterns. The  RSP … DCG  signoff appears throughout as both a dedication to her and a co-signature — two initials, two people, one story.

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

Cliff notes from the heart

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

The Door Before Entropy


I woke inside the mirror that my longing called the truth,
And saw my prayers arranging what your silence would not say,
I built a chapel out of hope and called the ache my proof,
While undisclosed old shadows kept dividing night from day.
I loved the pieces of your heart you let me hold in light,
And filled the missing spaces with the mercy I could give,
But partial truth can turn the mind against its better sight,
And make a man invent the life he wants enough to live.
You are not evil for the walls your childhood taught to stand,
Nor weak because your nervous system learned to disappear,
But I cannot keep reaching with an ever-open hand,
If every touch of closeness turns to distance, doubt, and fear.
I know the debt that haunts you, and the car note in your name,
The jobs, the cats, the drinking, and the panic underneath,
I say this not to wound you, not to drag you into shame,
But love must speak the truth before it loses all its teeth.
You keep me near enough to feel the warmth behind your door,
Then far enough to make my anxious spirit start to plead,
I know you care, but caring cannot carry us much more,
If care stays hidden deep behind the hunger not to need.
I have been kind, supportive, patient, prayerful, and awake,
I have watched you soften, even when you turned away,
But if I make your wounds my home, my own foundations break,
And I become the price I pay to help you face the day.
The post was right: you were a mirror and a human soul,
A stage where hope and fear both learned to act their part,
I wanted healing with you, something mutual and whole,
But maybe I supplied too much of my own burning heart.
I called it fate because the timing felt like God had moved,
I called it covenant because my spirit knelt inside,
But love is not made holy just because it has been proved,
By how much pain a faithful man is willing still to hide.
I want to be beside you, but not vanish into you,
I want to hold your sorrow, but not drown beneath its tide,
I want the sacred, simple, sober work of something true,
Not just the ghost of closeness where two frightened people hide.
If you can speak with honesty, then bring the facts and stay,
Bring fear, bring debt, bring grief, bring every guarded scar,
I will not need perfection if you meet me in the day,
And stop making your distance feel like love seen from afar.
But if reflection feels like threat, and truth becomes attack,
If every loving question makes you close another gate,
Then I must bless your road and slowly take my spirit back,
Before compassion teaches me to worship my own fate.
I am not leaving out of anger, nor demanding you be healed,
I am naming where the probable conclusion starts to show,
A bond can be meaningful and still remain concealed,
A seed can touch the sunlight and still never choose to grow.
So hear me with the tenderness I struggled hard to keep,
I do not want to break you, shame you, corner you, or blame,
But if you cannot wake beside the wounds that make you sleep,
Then I must stop confusing love with waiting in your name.
The likely end is simple, though it cuts the soul in two,
We either work with courage, or the pattern wins again,
You run from being seen, I ache from chasing you,
And entropy returns to scatter what we could have been.
Yet still I pray for mercy over both our wounded lives,
For wisdom in the silence, for a sober, steady grace,
For the woman who survives by hiding where she hides,
And the man who must not lose himself while loving her face.
If you are strong enough to look, then I am strong enough to stay,
Not as savior, not as jailer, not as hunger dressed in flame,
But if you cannot meet me there, I’ll turn my heart away,
And leave you with my blessing, not my bitterness or claim.
For love must have a boundary, or it rots into control,
And prayer must have discernment, or it blesses self-deceit,
I will not trade my principles to rescue any soul,
Nor call myself devoted while I kneel at my defeat.
I see your worth beneath the fear, the beauty under guard,
The frightened child, the woman, and the soul that longs for peace,
But healing asks for labor, and that labor will be hard,
And no one finds new freedom while refusing old release.
So this is my precipice, my sorrow, and my vow,
I will love with open eyes or let the fantasy depart,
I will not force tomorrow from the silence of the now,
Nor let your guarded nervous system govern my own heart.
If we begin, begin in truth, with both our masks undone,
If not, then let God teach us what the ache was trying to be,
For even broken love can turn a man toward the sun,
And even losing you may be the way I come to me.
I wanted us to heal, and maybe that was not a lie,
But wanting cannot carry what two people will not choose,
If you cannot reach for life, then I must learn to say goodbye,
Because love that saves another must not teach me how to lose.

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

In the shadowed dance 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

In the shadowed dance of hearts that seek and flee
R met D, a whisper through the door ajar
Proverbs’ woman, strong in cloth and field
Her hands like hers, yet armored from the scar
Dismissive soul, she watched the exits near
Anxious pull in him, a childhood plea
She rose at dawn, her worth beyond her fear
He chased the light she rationed carefully
Her beauty etched in lines of guarded grace
Fear of engulfment made her turn away
Yet wisdom clothed her in a noble place
Compassion held him through the night and day
Avoidant seam, anxious thread entwined
Proverbs speaks of one who fears the Lord
She built her walls, but cracks he gently find
Forgiveness blooms where old wounds are explored
RSP’s ache, a half-shut door’s soft sigh
D saw her soul retreat like frightened child
Her tongue with grace, no gossip’s bitter lie.


He prayed for healing, tender, undefiled
Bewildered hearts in push and pull’s cruel art
She flinched at closeness, needing space to breathe
His longing softened, not to break her heart
Empathy wove threads they both could weave
Proverbs’ wife opens her arms to poor
R learned to stay, a step beyond the flight
D held his need, no flood to overwhelm more
Wisdom’s children rise to call her right
Their story twined in attachment’s storm
Dismissive chill met anxious, pleading fire
Yet mercy forged a commitment ever warm
Understanding quenched the old desire
She shared her shame from childhood’s empty room
He named his ghosts without demand or claim
Her strength like rubies, lighting inner gloom
Compassion turned bewilderment to flame
Realistic fractures, compelling in their pain.
RSP leaned close, head on his chest one night
Forgiveness washed the patterns like the rain
Warriors healing, stepping into light.
Proverbs praises one of noble might
D lost his sight, yet saw her spirit clear
No chains from illness, only lantern’s light
She dropped her guard, let vulnerability near
Twined styles softened in the grace they earned.
Her mouth with wisdom, teaching peace profound
Empathy bridged what old fears had burned
Commitment honored in forgiveness found
R and D, RSP in prayer’s hold.
Proverbs’ heart, compassionate and bold

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

Picture perfect postcard

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

Like a Picture perfect postcard

I’ve written and I’ve sent to you

You know these words I write

Are heart felt and sincerely true

Please, Mr. postman look and see-Deliver the letter the sooner the better

No matter the distance-I pen what I feel

I’m right across the street

or I could send it from Brazil

Maybe I’d wanna tell you

I long to see that smiling face

Thank you for what you bring

It’s something I embrace

At times you might think I’m silly

What I communicate to you

A way to breach the internal castle walls

The vulnerabilities you protect, may ensue

Patience is my virtue

Words mean nothing unless you proclaim

a self imposed exile

Only leads to a life of pain

Knowing this, I stand strong

Giving you positive messages

Only you can decide

What is right and what is wrong? 

So put that postcard under a magnet on the fridge

A memory to look back on and hold

The date still on the postcard

That tells you when it was sold

Just know this postcard

Is only meant to find you

Hoping to brighten your day

Reading what you already knew 

DCG

Screenshot

Meditation 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

Meditation


I came to God with questions in my hand.
As if the truth would bend to my demand.
I walked a quiet road where questions breathe.
And found that truth is softer than belief.
I built a god that fit inside my mind.
And called it faith, though it was mostly blind.
The dust of men still clings to every claim.
Yet mercy moves where no one seeks for fame.
I asked for signs, for certainty, for light.
But found a deeper silence in the night.
A teacher spoke of lilies in the field.
And showed that strength is found when hearts can yield.
The sky did not respond the way I planned.
No voice came down to help me understand.
He said the poor in spirit see more clear.
Because they hold their emptiness sincere.
I thought that faith would lift me up above.
Instead it pressed me down into a love.
We build our towers hoping to be known.
Yet lose the ground beneath us, stone by stone.
Not bright with answers, clear and easy made.
But something steady that did not quickly fade.
A fisherman was called beside the sea.
And left his nets to learn what it might be.
The Gospels speak, but never force the ear.
They meet the heart that’s willing to come near.
I tried to climb by being good and right.
But slipped on judgment dressed in borrowed light.
A father waits, not distant or severe.
But present in ways we struggle to revere.
Confucius said the gentle path is wise.
Lao Tzu smiled at force that always dies.
I saw myself in Peter’s shifting ground.
So sure, then lost, then nowhere to be found.
The Buddha saw desire’s endless thread.
Christ broke the bread and said the self must shed.
I heard the cry from Thomas in my doubt.
And knew that faith still lives when we reach out.
We try to rise by lifting up our name.
But find that pride and sorrow are the same.
The cross stood still while everything gave way.
No grand escape, no final word to say.
The mirror shows a fractured, shifting face.
Yet something whole still lingers in that space.
And in that stillness something pierced through me.
A truth that does not need me to agree.
A tax collector kneels in quiet shame.
And leaves more whole than one who boasts his name.
The more I fought, the more I felt it stay.
A steady pull I could not think away.
The last are first, the wounded lead the way.
The night reveals what hides inside the day.
Not proof, not logic neatly tied and sealed.
But something only softened hearts can feel.
I read the words and feel their edges turn.
Not rules to hold, but fires in which we burn.
Confucius taught the order we should keep.
Lao Tzu said flow and do not force the deep.
A kingdom not of gold or iron might.
But something like a lantern in the night.
The Buddha woke from suffering like a dream.
Christ walked a path that cut through what we seem.
And still we wander, restless in our need.
Planting ambition like a poisoned seed.
And in this weave, no single voice commands.
Just truth unfolding softly in our hands.
We grasp for certainty in fragile forms.
And call it truth while hiding from our storms.
I wanted God contained within a name.
A sacred word that I could hold and claim.
The cross appears where power seems to fail.
A broken man, a story we derail.
But every name began to fall apart.
And left a quiet reverence in the heart.
Yet in that loss a deeper thread is spun.
A quiet victory already won.
Not less belief, but something more refined.
A humbler knowing, softer in its kind.
But we resist, we tighten what we hold.
Afraid to trust a love we can’t control.
I saw that I was never meant to stand.
Above the world with truth held in my hand.
We measure worth in numbers, praise, and gain.
And wonder why it always ends in pain.
But kneel within it, open, small, and still.
And let that presence shape me as it will.
The teacher writes no doctrine in the sand.
Just traces time that slips from every hand.
The irony became a gentle guide.
The more I bowed, the less I had to hide.
And says forgive, though none of us are clean.
And see the world as more than what is seen.
The less I claimed, the more I felt it near.
Not distant God, but حاضر, always here.
We want a sign, a thunder in the sky.
Yet miss the truth in how we live and die.
No longer seeking proof to make it real.
But learning how to trust what I can feel.
A seed must fall and vanish from the eye.
Before it grows beneath a deeper sky.
The Father was not waiting far away.
But in each breath I almost threw away.
The mind resists what heart begins to know.
That letting go is how we truly grow.
In every small act mercy leaves undone.
In every chance to see we are still one.
The narrow path feels empty, sharp, and long.
Because it strips away what we call strong.
And slowly then, without a grand display.
My need for answers started to decay.
We chase the self as if it could be saved.
Yet find the self is what must be unmade.
Not gone, but quieter, held more at peace.
As if my striving finally found release.
In every wound a hidden door appears.
Unlocked by love, not opened through our fears.
So now I walk, not certain, but aligned.
With something greater than my restless mind.
The prodigal still walks in each of us.
Returning home through failure and through trust.
And though I fail, and doubt, and lose the thread.
I trust the path is held where I am led.
We think we stand while others fall behind.
Yet blindness is the deepest of its kind.
Not by my strength, nor clarity, nor sight.
But by a love that meets me in the night.
A woman weeps and washes dusty feet.
And finds that grace is quiet, close, and sweet.
And asks not that I master or defend.
But that I trust, and follow, to the end.
The world demands a ledger of our worth.
But love erases every line at birth.
And in that trust, so simple and so small.
I lose my grip, and finally give it all.

…

DCG

Screenshot

A hearts whisper 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

And so I pray (for RSP).
You came like a whisper through a half-shut door.
I felt I had met your ache somewhere before.
The room did not move but my soul did.
Two strangers, one truth, nothing hid.
You watched the exits even as you smiled.
I watched your heart retreat like a terrified child.
Your words were careful, your eyes were armed.
I knew you feared the very thing that warmed.
Something older than us stood in that air.
Not just chemistry, but a silent prayer.
Bowlby would have called it an ancient design.
Anxious thread, avoidant seam, tangled line.
You flinched when I leaned too close to see.
I flinched at the thought that you might flee.
Still, there was a gravity I could not deny.
As if God had folded both our wounds into one sky.
I felt you studying every crack in your own shield.
I felt myself kneel on that uncharted field.
This was more than my familiar ache.
It was a covenant trembling, about to break.
You said you had learned to live without need.
I said my heart still remembers how to bleed.
Your silence pressed on me like a storm.
But you were the first thunder that felt warm.
I am the one who reaches, I know.
You are the one who trains herself to let go.
Yet under the push and pull, I sensed a thread.
A place where both our ghosts had once bled.
So we stepped into the middle ground, shaking.
Two attachment styles, endlessly breaking.
I reached slower, tried to breathe between.
You stayed longer, softer, almost seen.
You let me trace the outlines of your doubt.
I let you say “too much” without walking out.
We stumbled into tiny moments of repair.
Short bridges built over caverns of despair.
I saw your eyes linger then quickly hide.
I learned to stay present without stepping inside.
You were afraid I would drown you in my plea.
I was afraid you would disappear from me.
My glaucoma shadows deepened by the day.
But with you, a different darkness fell away.
I am losing sight, not vision of your pain.
If anything, the blur makes your soul more plain.
You worry I will need you more than you can bear.
I worry you will carry shame that was never yours to wear.
So I hold my need gently, like a fragile cup.
And I place it down each time you brace or tense up.
There are nights the terror swallows us both whole.
You retreat into silence, I flood with soul.
Yet even then, I feel slow progress in our scars.
Two frightened children learning to name their stars.
You text back quicker than you used to do.
You let a compliment rest without arguing it through.
You say “I’m scared” instead of walking away.
I say “I hear you” instead of demanding you stay.
Some days you lean your head on my chest and breathe.
I tremble inside but keep my arms like a gentle sheath.
Not a cage, not a claim on your skin.
Just a quiet place where your terror can thin.
Still, the war returns without warning or sound.
You vanish, I spiral, old patterns unbound.
Yet now I do not chase you as before.
I light a candle, leave an unlocked door.
My prayer has changed its shape over time.
From “never leave” to “may she someday feel safe as mine.”
Not mine in possession, not mine as a right.
Mine as a soul unafraid of her own light.
I tell myself, “If she heals and walks away.
Let it be with less armor than yesterday.”
Your freedom is not my enemy or loss.
Your wholeness is worth any personal cost.
I do not want to bind you to my failing eyes.
Or make my blindness into a chain of disguised ties.
I will not turn my illness into a hook.
I would rather walk alone than have you feel mistook.
So I stand in this half-dark, resolute.
A man, not a martyr, still tender, still astute.
Working on my fractures, owning what is mine.
While I pray your heart finds a gentler design.
I see small cracks forming in your wall.
Less concrete, more curtain, not so tall.
You share childhood stories in a shaking voice.
You let me witness that you never had a choice.
You say you are tired of always having to run.
I say I am learning to stand without calling you “the one.”
Still, I cannot lie — my love for you is fierce.
But I will not let it wound where you are still pierced.
If we walk closer, let it be because you can breathe.
Not because my desperation will not leave.
If we remain friends, I will honor that path.
I will not weaponize my longing or my wrath.
What I want most is to see you rest.
To watch you trust your own worth, your own chest.
To see your shoulders drop without looking for the door.
To feel you know, in your bones, you are not a chore.
If in that resting, you find space for me.
I will receive it as grace, not guarantee.
I will meet you there with a steady, softened heart.
Ready to learn, to listen, to restart.
Until then, I keep this plea quiet but clear.
Not to own you, but to draw your soul near.
May my constancy never feel like a cage.
Only a lantern held at the edge of your stage.
I am DC Gunnersen, wrestling with my sight.
But in this dimness, I have learned a different light.
I pray more for your healing than my claim.
If God answers, let it be you free of shame.
And if, by mercy, our paths entwine more tight.
Let it be two warriors laying down the fight.
Not rescue, not savior, not dramatic art.
Just a woman and a man, choosing to heal heart to heart.
If not, RSP, may this still reach your hidden shore.
A soft knock, not a pounding at your door.
Know this: I loved you as best a broken man can see.
And I trusted you to choose what makes you free.

…

DCG

Screenshot

Exit stage left

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

FADE IN:

Scene 1 – “Letters Never Sent”

INT. D’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

A candle burns beside a small wooden cross. Rain glides down the window like ghostly fingers. A journal sits open on D’s desk.

INSERT – D’s JOURNAL (voiceover begins):

“Her silence sounds like God hiding behind thunder. Every unanswered message feels like a small crucifixion of the heart. But I keep believing love can survive the absence.”

D, clothed in quiet anguish, kneels beside his bed. His whisper trembles into prayer.

D:
Lord… she says she needs space. I keep mistaking that space for hell.

He holds the photo of R. His reflection shivers across it.

Scene 2 – “Detachments”

EXT. PARK CAFE – EVENING

A gray sky hangs heavy over empty tables. R sits, elegant but distant. D approaches, hesitant, brave.

R (dryly):
You never stop reaching, do you?

D:
How could I? You vanish every time I blink.

R:
Then close your eyes.

A beat. She stares into her untouched drink. D studies her profile — beautiful, remote, like marble daring to remain cold.

R (VOICEOVER from her journal):

“He looks at me as if proximity will save him. I feel his yearning like a storm pressing on the windows. But touch feels like theft when you’ve never been safe in someone’s arms.”

D:
I prayed you’d come back.

R:
You pray far too much when you should let go.

D:
Maybe prayer is the only place where you still exist for me.

Her eyes flicker with guilt but retreat into silence. Cars hum distantly, like a world moving on without them.

Scene 3 – “Faith & Defenses”

INT. CHAPEL – TWILIGHT

Light filters through stained glass, painting the pews in colors of confession. D sits alone, rosary in hand.

D (VOICEOVER):

“She confuses retreat with strength. I confuse endurance with love. We orbit each other like desperate planets, each praying to collide, yet afraid of the destruction.”

R’s voice echoes faintly from memory.

R (V.O.):
You’re too much, D. Everything is too loud, too emotional. I just need quiet.

D (aloud, to the crucifix):
Then why does her quiet sound like death, Lord?

He presses his forehead to folded hands, tears glimmering on his knuckles.

Scene 4 – “Over the Edge”

EXT. CLIFFSIDE COAST – DUSK

The horizon is a bleeding wound of orange and violet. Waves beat the cliffs with cathedral violence. R stands near the railing; D approaches slowly.

R:
You shouldn’t have come.

D:
You said you needed to talk.

R:
I said I needed space. You keep misunderstanding boundaries for invitations.

D (fighting tears):
And you mistake abandonment for strength.

Wind whips around them. For a moment, the storm mirrors their internal war.

R (VOICEOVER from her journal):

“I hate how tender he is. His love feels like sunlight on broken glass — beautiful, unbearable, blinding. I’ve spent years learning to need nothing. But he makes nothingness feel cruel.”

D:
You think stepping back will make you safe, but you’re just alone in prettier silence.

R:
And you, D — you build altars in the ruins. That’s your curse.

Lightning crackles offshore. R turns away. D remains, trembling, rain collecting at his feet.

Scene 5 – “Grace and Goodbye”

INT. D’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

Thunder outside. The candle struggling to live. A new message notification glows on his phone.

CLOSE ON SCREEN: “I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. –R”

He stares, paralyzed. The message feels carved into him.

D (VOICEOVER, journaling):

“There are no villains between an anxious heart and an avoidant soul — only children afraid of echoes. She runs. I wait. Our ghosts shake hands where neither of us stand.”

He kneels by the candle again.

D (praying):
Lord, bless the one who flees from love. Let Your mercy chase her where I cannot.

Wind rattles the window. He closes his eyes.

MONTAGE:

  • R driving alone in rain, windscreen wipers marking time.
  • D burning the last photograph of them.
  • Their two silhouettes facing opposite directions across the same beach.

Scene 6 – “The Unreachable Shore”

EXT. COASTLINE – DAWN

Mist veils the ocean. The tide hums low and sorrowful. D stands alone, holding his journal — now soaked, pages curling.

D:

“R, I release you.
You feared to be seen, and I feared to be unseen.
May grace reach you before regret does.”

He places the journal into the tide. Waves swallow it slowly, ink dissolving like faint, blue prayers.

R (VOICEOVER – final journal entry):

“He prayed for me more than he loved himself. And maybe that was the problem — we both mistook rescue for romance. If he finds peace, let him know I was listening — just too far away to answer.”

Camera rises as morning light floods the surf. The empty horizon feels enormous, eternal.

D (whispering):
Amen.

FADE OUT.

EPILOGUE – “Two Secrets in the Tide”

A single candle flickers out as the rosary falls into shadow.

SUPERIMPOSE:

“Where one heart avoids, another breaks. Grace alone teaches them how to meet again.” — DC Gunnersen (inspired tone)

Feed out 

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

You walked in

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

You walked into my small day and made the room feel wide. .
I saw in your easy smile the world I never had to hide. .
.
You asked a simple question and listened like it mattered. .
My fear was still in pieces but my shame was less scattered. .
.
I learned that how I see you is also how I see me. .
If I look through hurt and judgment, I call comfort an enemy. .
.
So I started to choose my lens like a craftsman with his wood. .
Shaping quiet acts of kindness into something fierce and good. .
.
You taught me that a gentle word can shift a heavy night. .
That one soft act of noticing can turn regret to light. .
.
But love is not a rescue line that pulls you from your pain. .
It’s a bridge laid board by board, in sun and in the rain. .
.
I hammered down my boundaries on the bank where I still stand. .
Not a wall to keep you out, but a line drawn by my hand. .
.
I will not build on quicksand just to keep you by my side. .
I can hold you with an open palm and still protect my pride. .
.
I’ve walked on eggshells long enough to know what they become. .
A carpet made of fragments that keeps both our voices numb. .
.
So I speak with kinder honesty, even when your armor shakes. .
I will not call it loving when it only feeds our breaks. .
.
You circle at your end of things, afraid the boards will fall. .
You test each step with stories of the ones who broke it all. .
.
You want me to grow tired first, to prove the world untrue. .
To leave you in your loneliness so it never leaves you too. .
.
But I stay without possession, I remain without demand. .
I refuse to crush my spirit just to prove I understand. .
.
Forgiveness is the quiet work I do when you withdraw. .
Not a door you have to walk through, but a shelter that I saw. .
.
I forgive the words you sharpened just to see if I would flee. .
I forgive the glass you carry, though it still might cut on me. .
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Because someone once forgave me when I shattered what we had. .
They held their ground with tenderness and refused to call me bad. .
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That mercy lit a lantern in the hallway of my chest. .
It showed me how a weary soul can learn a different rest. .
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So now when I say your name, I feel both ache and grace. .
You are wound and inspiration, you are loss and you are place. .
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You brought out in me a courage I thought only saints could show. .
To love without erasing me, to stay and still let go. .
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If you ever cross this bridge, it will be by your own will. .
You will find no chains to bind you here, just a quiet heart made still. .
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And if you never cross at all, this work will not be waste. .
The craft I learned in loving you will frame another’s taste. .
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For every soul that trembles at the thought of being known. .
I keep this sturdy bridge of mine, from all the hurt I’ve grown. .
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And when they walk with shaking steps, afraid that love won’t stay. .
I’ll remember how you taught me to see wonder in the day. .
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The meaning of our story is not only what we lose. .
It’s the quiet, fierce decision of the lens that we still choose. .

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

A solution revisited 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

The post “The solution of humanity” wrestles with the limits of human wisdom, the wounds of the past, and the failure of purely human projects to heal the soul, before finally resting in Christ as the only sufficient answer to our fractured condition. The poem below echoes that narrative arc: beginning with a wide search through world philosophies and faiths, then moving toward a distinctly Christian claim about grace, forgiveness, and the cross as the true quintessence of our humanity.


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I knelt before the sutras, drinking silence from their well. .
The Dhammapada whispered: “Guard your mind, it fashions heaven, it fashions hell.” .
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I traced the Tao in rivers, where the yielding waters wind. .
Lao Tzu sang of nameless Way, of empty bowls that feed the mind. .
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I bowed with old Confucius, where propriety patrols desire. .
He spoke of ordered families, of ritual that tempers fire. .
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I walked with dusty sadhus where the Ganges stains the feet. .
They murmured of samsara’s wheel, of breaking from repeat. .
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I sat with Zen companions, watching thoughts like passing rain. .
Koans cracked my logic’s shell, yet could not rinse my shame and pain. .
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These giants lit the mountains, each a lantern in the night. .
Still some cavern in my marrow shivered far from any light. .
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For every path said, “Discipline,” and every sage said, “Try.” .
Yet my will, a tired animal, only knew how to comply or to defy. .
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Reason built its scaffolds, stacked hypotheses like stone. .
But proof could not absolve me for the harm I’d done alone. .
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Some problems yield to data, to equations crisp and clean. .
But guilt is not a theorem, and grief is not a faulty gene. .
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I argued evolution with the fierce, design with trembling friends. .
Yet neither camp could teach my fractured heart how any story ends. .
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The quintessential question haunted every night I couldn’t sleep. .
Not “What is true in abstract?” but “Who can reach me when I’m deep?” .
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My childhood was a fracture, love withheld and love misused. .
A narcissistic mirror where my fledgling trust was bruised. .
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Neglect became my liturgy; I worshiped every fleeting nod. .
Attachment wired my nervous system tighter than a rod. .
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I sought in crowds a savior made of status, touch, and praise. .
But idols built of aching need devoured me in subtle ways. .
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I preached forgiveness to myself, a law I could not keep. .
“Let go, move on, be strong,” I said, then sobbed myself to sleep. .
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I tried to earn absolution, to deserve another start. .
But merit is a cruel god when you have a trembling heart. .
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Then the scandal of a cross cut straight across my schemes. .
Not as mythic consolation, but as judgment of my dreams. .
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A God who enters trauma, not to sanitize the scar. .
Who hangs between the guilty thieves and calls them from afar. .
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“Father, forgive,” was uttered where the nails made muscle tear. .
Not after we improved ourselves, but while we mocked Him there. .
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If there is any solution to this species, wild and torn. .
It will not rise from self-help shelves or from the newest creed reborn. .
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It comes as undeservedness, an offense to every pride. .
The Holy kneels in blood and dust and stands up on my side. .
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Grace is not a concept but a Person with a wound. .
The Logos wearing human skin, in borrowed grave entombed. .
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Resurrection is no metaphor for “try again once more.” .
It is the shattering of final loss, the opening of a door. .
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In Christ, the moral ledger is not erased by lie. .
It’s paid in full by One who chose to feel my failure die. .
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Buddha showed the craving flame, the Tao its gentle flow. .
Christ walked straight into my hatred and refused to let me go. .
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Confucius framed our duties, and the sages mapped the mind. .
But only pierced hands reached the child that history left behind. .
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The solution of humanity is not that we advance. .
It’s that the Author joins the story and is broken in our trance. .
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Forgiveness is not weakness, nor denial dressed as peace. .
It is cruciform surrender where the cycles slowly cease. .
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To love the unlovable is the line I cannot cross. .
Until I see myself there too, forgiven from that cross. .
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Then enemy and victim blur beneath that rugged sign. .
I stand as both, yet strangely held in mercy’s grand design. .
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The quintessential attribute our arguments misname. .
Is not our clever reason, but a Love that bears our blame. .
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So here I lay my systems down, my proof, my pride, my role. .
And rest in One solution: a wounded God who makes a whole. .

…

DCG

My discovery Bridge 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

The post “A Bridge of Discovery” traces a lifetime hunger for love, acceptance, and a deeper, felt truth, showing how this longing evolves from family love to self‑acceptance and finally toward a metaphysical connection that thought alone cannot reach. It frames memory, personality, and spiritual seeking as parts of a single bridge the author is building from rational understanding to a more embodied, heart‑level knowing of reality.
Main ideas of the post
• The author revisits every decade of life (ages 7, 17, 27, 37, 47) to ask, “What do I want most?” and finds a consistent theme of relational love and acceptance. The specific answers move from wanting parental love, to peer acceptance, to forming a family, to receiving love from a daughter, and finally to accepting and forgiving the self.
• Memory is pictured as a “time machine” built from the brain’s vast neural connections, allowing the author to re‑enter earlier stages of life and question those selves. Yet memory is acknowledged as selective and double‑edged, capable of teaching true lessons or hiding lessons not yet learned.
• Across decades, the author notices a preoccupation with “how I fit into the social arena,” which reveals a deeper sense of disconnection and a yearning for a more profound metaphysical bond than ordinary interactions provide. Material wants are set aside so the focus can rest on questions of meaning, belonging, and the soul’s orientation to others and to reality itself.
• The Enneagram personality pattern is invoked as a framework for understanding why the author has always sought deeper connection and why relationships and coping strategies have unfolded as they have. Personality, early disposition, and ego are seen as shaping both the hunger for intimacy and the missteps in handling emotional events.
• The author describes a lifelong search for a truth that can be “felt in your entire being,” not just believed through religious doctrine or rational analysis. Mystical and experiential knowing—rather than purely conceptual faith—is presented as the missing piece, a door that has not yet fully opened.
• The Buddhist parable of the blind men and the elephant illustrates how limited perspectives lead to quarrels and one‑sided claims about reality. This is connected to Heisenberg’s insight that what we observe is shaped by our “method of questioning,” urging the reader to ask better questions and recognize interpretive limits.
• The “metaphysical problem” becomes how to move beyond the reasoning barrier into a shared field of perception and intention with another human being. The author suggests that a “psychic gap” can be bridged by experiences that are felt, not just thought, pointing toward a more holistic engagement with life.
• Classic spiritual and philosophical works (Tao Te Ching, I Ching, Dhammapada, Upanishads, Wittgenstein, Kierkegaard, Sartre, Gurdjieff) are re‑read in this light as potential guides to deeper experience, not just intellectual systems. The author notes that different learning styles (verbal, tactile, visual, abstract, etc.) may mean prior reading did not fully activate inner senses needed to grasp their depths.
• The post closes by emphasizing the need to “undo” conditioning that blocks awareness of being connected to everything around us. The “bridge” being built is explicitly named as “one for the heart,” a path toward discovery through lived practice rather than theory alone.

I went back through the years, like walking through a quiet, borrowed sky. .
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A small boy counting heartbeats, just wanting his parents not to say goodbye. .
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A teenager scanning faces, trading jokes to earn a fragile place. .
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Afraid that if the laughter stopped, it meant he could be erased. .
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A young man holding wedding rings like tiny suns that might not stay. .
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He prayed that starting his own family would keep the shadows far away. .
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A father staring at his daughter’s face, stunned that love could look back too. .
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Her trust rewrote his failures, like morning light correcting midnight’s view. .
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Years later in the mirror, he met a stranger he still called his name. .
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He finally asked for mercy on the man who carried all that blame. .
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The brain became his time machine, with sparks of memory crossing like a storm. .
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He saw how every wire of need had shaped his wanting into form. .
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He traced the threads of friendships, all the clinging, all the flight. .
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He saw a deeper hunger hiding underneath the want to “be all right.” .
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Not comfort made of objects, not the safety of a locked front door. .
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But some warm proof that soul meets soul, and both wake up as something more. .
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He read the mystics late at night, his coffee cold, his questions hot. .
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The words were like a map to lands his reasoning alone could never spot. .
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The blind men touched the elephant and argued over trunk and tail. .
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He heard his own voice in their fight, each partial truth prepared to fail. .
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Heisenberg whispered gently, “You see the world your questions choose.” .
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He realized half his heartbreak grew from what he’d asked and what he’d refuse. .
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For years he worshiped clarity, then learned that love can blur the line. .
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Sometimes the truest knowing comes when logic kneels and steps aside in time. .
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He saw his Enneagram like armor welded from his childhood fear. .
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It kept him safe from sudden loss, but blocked the touch of those who drew too near. .
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He practiced softer questions, ones that did not pin the heart to proof. .
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He let another’s trembling eyes be evidence enough of holy truth. .
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Some nights he felt a Presence move between his thoughts like quiet rain. .
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No thunderclap of doctrine, just a shared, mysterious easing of his pain. .
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The Tao, the sutras, worn-out texts, all opened like a windowed wall. .
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He sensed they were not puzzles, but invitations simply to be all. .
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He started training inner sight, like learning how to breathe again. .
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Trusting that the bridge is built by every honest, open moment with his pain. .
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Now when he meets another soul, half-hidden behind careful glass. .
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He does not rip their fortress down; he waits, and lets their courage slowly pass. .
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He offers solid footing, not a net that steals their ground away. .
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His love stands like a quiet bridge that will not beg, yet chooses still to stay. .
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The span runs from his thinking mind to where his living heartbeat sings. .
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Each step across that trembling space is stitched with ordinary, holy things. .
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He walks it not as one who’s found some final, blinding certainty. .
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But as a human building, breath by breath, a bridge of gentle, waking discovery. .
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…

DCG