Speed Drawing Alien Invasion | Pen & Ink

Speed Drawing: Battle Against Depression | Pen and Ink

The Keys We Have

Imagine this, two prisoners are chained up in neighboring cells with only a thin wall to separate them. Each prisoner has a key, but it does not fit in to unlock their shackles. The prison Warden comes in every morning to mock their bondage, saying, “If only the prisoner in the cell behind that wall knew what you had done, they would vomit at the grotesqueness of your actions!” Because of this, both prisoners were inclined to stay silent for shame, and enmity with one another.

Every day they would hear the distinguishable sobbing behind their walls, but the muffled gall of the Warden in the next room. One day, one of them mustered up the courage to communicate with the other. The hesitant cell neighbors eventually confessed to each other what truth about their past and actions the Warden had spoken of them, and what was a farce. They even learned about each other’s keys. After much deliberating, the crazy idea sprung up that maybe their keys might work on each other’s chains. They chiseled out a crevice in the wall, and fed their keys through the hole. With one turn of the other’s key, their fetters sprung open. 

Fate would have it that they just happened to be given the keys to each other’s chains,… or was it fate? Looking back, each prisoner received their keys long before their imprisonment. In fact, it was they that walked into the jail house seeking shelter. Afterward, the Warden seized them and introduced them to their homely abode. The scenario seemed scripted, as if it were intentionally methodical.

Armed with this knowledge, however, both of the prisoners went around the jail house spreading this news. Some of their keys unlocked other’s cells; some prisoners didn’t even know they had a key, much less one that could even unlock their own cell; some were not even chained up, but believed they were! In the end, most of the prisoners made it out, and the Warden made reservations to move his establishment.

The point is this: We are all prisoners to the flesh. We all have faults that are common to most people, but the devil comes in and makes us feel uniquely unredeemable, distinct in our stench and our crimes, however, we have a key. We have a key given to us by God. This key is the answer to a problem manifested in the flesh.

Everyone has gone through something, and has learned to overcome certain challenges, so, as a result, they have found their key. Sometimes we do not have the key to our own problems, however, in helping another, we may learn of their key. We try their key on our locks and, would you know it, it fits. The answer to every problem is Jesus, but sometimes the way we approach this spiritual walk, sometimes the way we think is deficient. Sometimes we need someone who has experienced this dilemma, which is brand new to us, to shed some light on what is really going on in the heart, mind, and body.

I would hope that we can be totally honest with one another, seeing that everyday we sit here and are prodded to be introspective and self-evaluating, and this is the way it should be, right? When we are asked, “Is there anything God is speaking to us about this past week” no one should be quiet because God is dealing with us all at every time in the day about something; we are not perfect beings. But sometimes our problems are too personal to share with a crowd, sometimes too personal to share with your closest friend.

But I implore you that if you are dealing with something, that something is not too personal to share with God. Maybe God is drawing you to someone with wisdom, so that you can learn from them. James 5: 14-16 says, “Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.”

Dark, personal demons are the deepest cause of dissension within the human mind, and they are also the most relatable. A majority of people stand accompanied, yet alone within themselves. The irony of the situation is that two people can ask each other how they are doing and both will reply, “good”, but both are struggling with the very same demon that threatens their very character and self-worth. Maybe you have each other’s key?

Two Armies and a Trophy

The death of remorse accompanies a sun-struck ocean of spears and gleaming shields. Men with fists striking the clouds shout, “Forward, forward march we to victory!” A spectacle of a general rises among them on an altar bones. His resplendent armor radiates the star’s warmth, his helm glows like that of a saint’s halo, and an ornate cape billows in the northern gale like a scarlet cloud fumed from the fires of hell. No more a man more revered than he. His armor was handcrafted as a gift by the most brilliant smith in the country, and decorated by the most monumental men in the world. Saints, kings, and sages all lined up to pin medals of valor and of honor to his chest. No one, beast or man, has rent neither bone nor flesh from his body. He is second to God, this in the minds of every man in the vast many that lay their gaze upon him.



He unsheathes his sword and raises it against the sun. The shining general shouts, “Glory! Glory!” as he jolts the shimmering weapon in the air. Like a maestro conducting a mass choir, the general mobilizes his men; they follow his lead, also thrusting their weapons in the air, shouting for glory on the field of blood. But as they run their spirits to the sky, smoke and dust is rising over the horizon. Wheels of chariots and the feet of men by the millions scourge the earth, spreading like a black cloud. The men under the general shudder at the surreal sight of watching their enemies devour the very landscape that fills their childhood memory, but the general is as firm as the very mountain he stands on. The glory-seekers under him marvel at his peace.



Now the enemy has come. The mountain quakes in their guts, the vultures are scraping their beaks, and every bead of sweat sizzles into the livid rock. No heel kisses the ground. The breath of a god is in every man’s lungs. The dark sea of wretched souls flood the valley, and then the foot of the mountain. Their leader is biting blood in his teeth. He is glorified with medals of steel-torn flesh. The shining general appears as an angel compared to him, but after battle has been dealt, both will surely look like less of a man.



With a spirit of fire in the air, and an audience with the Maker himself, the men poise themselves and shout one more time. The general dips the tip of his sword in the sun’s radiance and lowers it at the enemy legion leader. Their eyes lock and the general gives the command to charge.



I heard one soldier recall of the event, “I wish I could have had the enemy’s perspective for that very moment when we spilled over the mountain side, as the hearts of every coward in their ranks sunk at the sight of our brilliant charge, to see the endless stream of spearheads emerging from above, locked firmly on every one of them; there was truly no moment like it, not before and most definitely not after…

The Man

Dim, diffuse light shimmers above a clad piano cover as the harmonious tunes hush the anxious atmosphere. My quivering legs stumble towards the nearest seat, and I give in to my fatigue, falling sideways into the cushions. My battered lungs lay relaxed with a sigh. At last,.. Rest. I roll around and recline for a moment’s peace, knowing the devil awaits me out in the cold streets. I can picture him now, at the front entrance, looking at his watch and counting the minutes.That fiend just won’t give me a break. But that is ok. I am here. This is right…

In this suspended calm, I see many people: some sit down and soak in the moment, others walk by to catch a glimpse before finding the exit and taking flight. No more than the average visitor that treads these foot-stamped carpets am I, or any man for that matter. But here I behold an anomaly of a man of whom I thought nothing at first until he looked my way. He hooks me in his gaze and shifts his winds towards me. Anxious, I sit upright in my seat.

Without a word, he seizes the chair beside me and asks, “What are you doing here again?”

A million and one thoughts run through my mind, I grimace skeptically. “What do you mean, ‘here again’? Have you been watching me? Am I supposed to know what you mean, because this is the first time I’ve seen you?” I doubt every word as it falls from my lips. There is a sense of familiarity lingering in my head, but I shake it off.

His expression remains serious, sorrowful even. He stares through me. “I thought you were better than this; I know you are better than this.”

My stomach knots and my fists clench. I perceive him for the challenger that he is, so I raise my defense. “Leave me  alone!” I tell him, “Day in, day out, I am struggling; I am fighting for what I love. Can’t I be afforded one or two days out of the week to come here?” I pause for a minute to temper my thumping heart… “I am tired.” I tell him. My words bend under the weight of my breath.

“Aren’t they wondering where you are?” he inquires of me.

I nod, “Regardless,… I am a working man. I am still in the right.”

“Not necessarily” He objects.

My doubtful gaze questions him.

“If you eat in celebration of achieving your weight loss you are undoing your work. It is the same with what you are doing now. You are digging up the seeds you’ve laboriously sown. You are dying inside. Why can’t you save yourself?” 

He holds out his hands, and as I see them, rivers stream down my cheeks. I realize who the man really is.

“I’m sorry!” I sob, “I won’t do it again!”

“You will.” He assures me, “You never keep your word to me.”

His eyes shoot up up over my shoulder and I turn to behold the devil resetting his watch. “Thirty-two hours, eleven minutes… Not bad!” He comments with a nefarious grin. “‘Till next time…”

A Witch and A King

One step closer to the edge of the promontory. The vision haunts my sight once more. A choir of angels sing of the parades of the ancients, but my heart is mourning in the wake of David’s march with the Holy Ark; this “slayer of tens of thousands” has defied me with his very presence. But as the crowds and the marching is slowed to an eerie pause, and the cheers and horns are muted, I look back onto my son, and all the people under me, and think, ‘what shall become of all this?’

Like a rushing wind, the reminiscence is displaced from my gaze, and, behold, I now stare into the haunted entrance of a homely abode, a cramped den of clay and dust, sporting burlap and indigenous furs. A fog scours the fields, and rinses away the remaining sunlight as one of my companions tap my shoulder.

“This is the place” He whispers.

A shiver trails down my spine. I feel a foreboding presence pounding on my heart, nevertheless, I tread onto the outlaid tongue of the mouth of the Lion. I pull my cowl down further to conceal my face and knock on the door, but at first, no answer. For a moment, I contemplate stepping back and leaving the doorstep, but the door creaks open before I can entertain the thought. On the entry mat stands a woman, clad and silhouetted against a balmy, candle lit haze. She has a perplexed look on her face that suddenly turns serious. 

I disguise my voice, “A séance,… I wish to inquire-…”

“Shhh!” She scowls, immediately drawing us in and shutting the door behind us. She rebukes me. “Calm your tongue! Do you mean to have me slain? The King has forbidden this practice in these lands!”

I try to appease her temperament. “As the Lord lives, I swear no reproach nor conviction shall befall you.”

The pensive woman quenches her agitation. She shifts her eyes around the dimming hovel and then back at me. She ushers out a single command, “sit”.

And so we sit, three in all. I can feel the breathing of my companions laden. The woman hobbles around the claustrophobic room igniting spits of fire cupped in brass bowls. She lights one such flicker and sets it between us before finally taking her seat.

With a long breathy voice, she ushers another command, “speak”.

I clear my throat. “I want you to call upon the recently passed spirit of a prophet”.

She takes a breath and rolls her eyes behind her head. “Who?”

“Summon for me the prophet, Samuel…”

Morning House

12"x16" Acrylic on canvas

A delightful Florida home. Maybe a future homestead for me?

Well of Emotions

(It occurred to me that I haven't yet posted this on my blogspot. This was written over a year ago.)

I take up my belongings as the clouds begin to loom.

I tread through the grounds on one dreary afternoon.

Encumbered by questions, I walk amongst the trees.

Wondering what to do about my life with so many needs…

Suddenly I stumble upon an old well

As I approach, an entity from within begins to swell.

I look inside and see a glimmering sensation.

A spectacle of colors, enamoring elation.

A mysterious force, limber as water drips.

Swirling about, it bounces up and kisses my lips.

I am overwhelmed by a blissful cheer

It defogs my mind and I think clearer.

But slowly the feeling starts fading away

I wonder to myself, 'what is in this well anyways?'

A well unknown amongst the trees

Frees my mind and fulfills my needs.

Dispelling all the clouds that loom

And I found it on this afternoon.

With no one in sight

I indulge in its delight

Wonderful emotions

I feel full of might

I start experiencing things

Wonderful things

Terrifying things

Exciting things!

Stirring up within me

As I dipped in my hand

Well of Emotions

Took me to a wonderful land.

Land of color with faces of glee
Frolicking free fear beside me
Powers extraordinary filling my veins
Enables me to silence the rain.

No more a joy I have ever imagined
Wondrous elation; feels just like magic

Well of Emotions

Captivate my mind

Awesome feelings

One of a kind.

Eventually I leave

I am covered in leaves

Nestled still under the trees.

Evening is creeping

I had better return

Tomorrow to take another turn.

My errands complete, I excitedly race

To the well to enter that stimulating place.

There I arrive

Shimmer in my eyes

Well of Emotions, before me it lies.

Could this be real?

Could I be awake?

Somebody tell me

For goodness sake!

This is too good

I don't understand it

This fortuitous arrival

And here it has landed.

'If you must know if this is true

Just dip your hand, and see where it takes you.'

And I do…

Take a sip

Fingertips drip

I start to embark on a wild trip!

But something is not right…

The world I remembered is not the same.

The setting has changed, the people, deranged.

This world I once adored, is now something abhor

And my sanity cannot be maintained.

I struggle, I grip, but inevitably slip

Into a hell where black blood drips

Faces of horror draw closer and closer

Until its grace leaves my lips.

No mere fairytale, but it cast me out

Sent me spinning round about.

The rush, the moment, it took me in

It sent me falling from within.

Then the curtains closed, the room was black

The nightmare ceased and sent me back.

I shake myself, "what a trip", I said

As my eyes greeted the sky so red.

The day is leaving from whence it came

Time for me to do the same...

The next day I realize I had to return

My experience had left me taciturn.

It twisted my countenance up-side down

In self-derision I desperately drowned

I am dreary

I am depressed

I am thoroughly deprived of rest.

My body and mind are torn in two and I cannot contest

I can only think about the well

And how it made those feelings swell.

Return me to the well once more

Let me even out the score.

And so I go to the well again..

There it is before me

All those feelings swirling

Something bubbles up

I grip the rim and drink it up.

Flowing masterpiece

Symphonic bliss

Musical brilliance

Unending list

Hypnotizing song

Siren's curse

Lasting luxury

Unquenchable thirst

This well makes me feel whole

But I feel like I am out of control.

I stand back and gaze upon it

Do I dare commit myself to it?

The well is all I can think about

I struggle, deprived, under this drought.

I see it splashing up enticing me

Maybe I will take one more sip…

..or two..

..or three.

Suddenly the feelings emerge

The sky is cleared.

The land is falling away

From all I feared.

But I feel like I can't control the flight

My wings burst aflame.

I nosedive like a bombarded plane

I am losing all noise

Losing all fame.

Crashing here to the ground in searing pain.

I shake myself free of the well's hold

I accomplish nothing under its control.

I must stop it; I must leave it now

Before it decides to follow me home.

The next day I awake in a sullen disposition

I feel conquered under the well's unending attrition

Why is it that I deny my independency so?

Am I ignorant to the things that I already know?

This well coexists in two dimensions

It is the best, and the worst thing that I can mention.

Do I brave it, do I leave it, can I even be without it?

But I am free, I can leave, But will my life ever be the same to me?

I live

I laugh

I learn

I lie

But this stinging force just will not die.

The afternoon I would have spent visiting the well

Is now the afternoon I spend living in hell.

My mind is gnawing away at me

What does the well have today for me?

Another euphoria to lift my spirit?

Oh how I feel I can no longer bear it.

I sit

I ponder

I cannot lay

The thoughts will persist anyway.

These arms

These legs

These hands

These feet

Trembling anxiously, the well to greet.

All the symptoms are in replete

These desires, I cannot beat

Against my body, I cannot compete

Admit to myself as I wrack in my seat

The Well of Emotions makes me feel complete!

Go!

To the Well!

Enlist in the spell!

There I will forever dwell.

There I arrive

I fall face towards it

These emotions I felt

I could not afford it

The anger I hide

I am mortified

Pitiful love; I was trapped inside.

I could so easily leave, but I did not want to

I wanted to feel it again, I wanted to feel alive again.

Lie to myself! To its deathly taunt!

I can stop any time I want!

'Such is the man who uses the well

Caught under it's belligerent spell

You wish to stop, but your will is forfeit

The emotions withhold you, you are its puppet.'

Well of Emotions

Captivate my mind

Awesome feelings

One of a kind

In a swimming euphoria

False love I find

But what can I do?

I am confined..

..By my own mind.



             by Daniel Santiago

No Challenge; no Growth

Nothing worth any merit can be achieved without its prerequisite sacrifices, neither can it come without challenge…

Where I work, there are framers, plumbers, electricians, welders, etc. But none of them can be considered professionals. No, they are not professionals, they are merely experienced in their trades. A professional carries about a sense of pride and quality about the work that he/she does. Excellence shines through every calculated inch. But how does someone become so excellent at something? They go through a stage of training, a learning process, something that not only gives them experience, but knowledge and familiarity in that area of study. They work, they spend years of their life honing this skill that matters to them.

You may not notice it, but this is what separates an enthusiast from a professional (an expert). At work, I can learn how to wire a thermostat, even how to handle live wires, but I am no electrician. An electrician has a larger library of knowledge and a grasp of why things work the way they do. They risk potential death if they overstep any bounds their training has set forth.

For a professional artist, he/she needs a different kind of education that he/she can only attain through years of experience. Someone can pick up a paint brush and paint a pretty picture, but an expert knows why those elements work the way they do because he/she has studied it immensely for the sake of excelling in his/her occupation. It can be a frustrating experience to have to fail so many times before you get it right, but professionals are familiar with failure enough to realize it as part of the learning process, they hold closely to their craft even though they may make little profit in return for what they do.

A musician must sink several thousand hours into an instrument to be considered proficient at that instrument. Likewise, a composer must have a collective knowledge of all instruments and musicians present and how to symbolize them in a written orchestration that is to be interpreted by someone who is seeing their work for the first time. Years on top of years are imparted to this skill, yet those who are happy with their position would not wish to trade any of those years they spent practicing for doing something more shallowly enjoyable.

And it is the same for you. Any path you have chosen for your future and career must meet you with challenges, there are no easy paths to your full potential. Whatever career choice you have made, whatever talent you feel called to master, must be seen all the way through; do not do anything halfway. Do not chase after treasure maps that lead you into this ancient trap of prosperity without the sacrifice. Do not fear challenge or pain or loss, embrace it, for if you are focused on God, He can only lead you to greater heights.

Demon of the Sea

Another watercolor painting I did. I kind of like the way it came out, but I sort of played it safe with this one. I wanted a narrower field of view and a lower angle of the maiden, but I did not account for it in the long run. If I had established how low the sun would be in the sky, I would have changed the color scheme and used a lot less blue. I like that I blended the colors better though! :)

I like to think the maiden hid her lower half in the water and beckoned sailors to come near, but unbeknownst to them, her nest was perched on jagged rocks that punctured the ships. Her mischief is charming, alluring, and a lesson of the inky pollution of a lustful heart.

Acrylic Footprints

Some time ago I got the idea to smear a palette of acrylic paints between my soles and stamp out my footprints on some basic drawing paper, the result was these swirly, colorfully blended footprints of mine! It is funny because it is reminiscent of something most people did as a child, and now this is sort of the update from the former creative child, now a creative adult, showing that he is still willing to get messy and have fun with art.

A Sunflower

A wilted sunflower :(

12"x12" Acrylic on canvas

Nature House

My first watercolor painting! :)

I had fun working with this one, though it was a bit frustrating to get the paper wet and having it curl over. It sort warps the picture a bit, but I like it. I'm going to try to get better contrast in my next painting and sharper lines.

My Testimony (God is Good!)

Before and after the move to Florida, I was not the most sociable character, nor was I very happy. In truth, I had a very negative attitude that only worsened as time progressed. I faced a significant presence of hopelessness in my life. I was very depressed and anxious, and a large cause for most of these feelings was OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.


What is OCD? It is a mental disorder that causes excessive anxiety in the sufferer, arriving in two parts, obsession and compulsion, whereas the obsession is a nagging thought that will not go away, and the compulsion is the action you take to relieve the discomfort brought upon by the nagging (obsessive) thought.


OCD is most popularly associated with being a neat freak and a compulsive hand washer, but it is so much more than that. I had repetitive compulsions that severely impeded my function as a human being. I would repeat words and get stuck with thoughts that would not go away. My heart would race and I would need to sit down and breathe. I would re-write my sentences even if I so much as breathed on my hand whilst writing them. Everything needed to be done in the right order and with perfection. I was kept up many nights trying to complete a ritual that had no feasible benefit. Something in my brain told me I “needed” to do it, or I would not be able to go to sleep.


I also had a severe contamination fear. I was afraid of touching everything because everything was “dirty”. Even if I touched the sleeve of my own shirt, I had to respond by washing my hands; I couldn’t touch my face or mouth because, if I do, I will have to wash it lest I be letting a foreign body inside of mine. It terrified me what I would do next to keep me safe and comfortable: I didn’t let anyone touch anything in my room; I made my own bed and could not let anything fall on the clean half; I sanitized everything often; I never touched food with my hands unless I hadn’t touched anything after the time I washed them, not even my own skin or it was back to the sink. I washed my hands around 30 times a day, often rubbing pieces of skin clean off my hands. I washed even after I came out of the shower because I might have touched something dirty after I got out. I needed to be immaculate before I climbed into my bed, so if I touched something, I needed to go back and wash. This would continue for about 20 minutes on a good night, 2 hours on a bad one. I went to sleep very late, and got up in the morning with deep disgust of myself and of life.


Every morning when I got up, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for anything I did in the past. If I said hi to someone the wrong way, it would follow me to bed, and after I woke up. So I started to close up from people. I found myself hating people, and myself, and I thought the worst of every situation. It was torment. I will admit that I wanted to die. And my Mom feared me killing myself when she was not home. I read the Bible, I prayed to God, but I wasn’t doing something right, I wasn’t feeling remission. Instead, everyday felt worse than before.


At this time I was going to a young adult group at my church. But my attitude and skewed perspective made me want to quit going. Everyday when I determined to stop going, I went, and I was encouraged to go one more time, and it cycled on like that. The topics were about being united in Christ, reaching out to one another, being vulnerable, and showing love and compassion. It helped me realize how sick and tired I was of being depressed and anxious, but even more sick and tired of being lonely, so I reached out and told someone my problems. And they reached back with love and compassion, the opposite of what I was expecting since I was so negative. But it was stage one in a healing process.


Soon after, my spirit had found a bottom below my lowest point. And so, reaching out again, I found no one. I called/texted everyone I could think of, but I could not find relief, for I was screaming inside. The guilt was tremendous, and I knew the cause: my self-destructive lifestyle, my negativity, my OCD. I sought psychiatric help with a therapist that ultimately told me that it was up to me to change my behaviors, and that every bolt of sadness, every pain endured was motivated by choice, my own personal will, conscious or not. I was my own worst enemy. I had to change my insides to change my outsides and my situation. This is the way God had set forth for me to escape from my mental prison.


Finally, after a year of acute sorrow began a revelation of freedom. I had everyone I could think of praying for me, including my new friends at the young adult group, and my mother (who played a big role in my healing process). But I realized that God wasn’t biding His time on healing me. He wanted to heal me; He was just waiting on me to take the first step, that step I knew I had to take from the beginning, but was too terrified to take. The first step was to acknowledge the feelings that filled me, but not to feed them. Sure, I felt it, I couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming in, but I could change my attitude and my response to them. Immediately I started seeing remission. And it came so suddenly that it was, without a doubt, God.


I started feeling an odd sense of elation, when I refused my compulsions, these things that would terrorize me. That is not supposed to happen! I was supposed to feel agony, but less need to do it the next time. But I didn’t feel the need to quarantine myself from “dirty” things as much; I took off my shoes and walked barefoot for the first time in a long time, and I decided I really liked it; I stopped repeating things as often; It felt okay to leave things imperfect; I started to feel happier, liberated, loved, and I was much more open to people. I stopped caring about what I thought people thought of me. I started loving myself. It felt like God was coming down and hugging me. And to this day, I don’t feel a fraction of what I felt before. Before was a horror, a nightmare. Now I am so much freer. Years stuck in this pattern of negativity and it was undone in under a month.


I am not completely healed though. I still have a few repeating compulsions, lonely days, sad days, but these are normal for humans to experience. I heard OCD cannot be cured, only managed and suppressed, but I know God can do anything (and he may have a purpose for it still). I do get those thoughts that “maybe that is ‘dirty’”, or I feel some strange need to touch something again, or rewrite a perfectly fine sentence. But this will soon fade too, because God is good.


I can say I have just recently seen the last of my “depressive loneliness thoughts”. I am looking at a brighter future for myself, and do not wish to ever go back to what I was before. Before I was so immature, but I’ve learned a lot now. I learned that we need fellowship in our lives; we need to reach out to other Christians and receive good godly council. I learned that happiness is a choice just as sorrow can be. It is very comfortable to stay in a place of negativity, but know that your thoughts can envenom you and break your physical and mental strength. The battle of life is fought mostly in the mind, guard your thoughts and focus on God, not the problem. A life that prioritizes God first and foremost is a life on the right track.


I am so thankful that I have changed since those dark times, and am still changing, but sometimes I take what I have for granted. I underestimate the luxuries I enjoy, for I was very much aware that my suffering was meager in the face of the substantially more severe suffering going on in the world. I still cannot fathom the strength some people have to endure these disabilities all their lives. I am blessed beyond measure. What I have is not mine; it is God’s.


On a final note, do what you do to fulfill His will, not your will. I was like that. I wanted everything perfect. I wanted healing without taking the necessary steps. We are all imperfect, and we all stumble, but by the grace of God we keep moving. And know that no mountain is too colossal or unmovable. God can make it happen, He can do anything! And who knows, maybe God’s will is not to move the mountain out of your way, but rather to put you on top of that mountain so you can proclaim victory in Christ whilst atop your greatest hindrance. It won’t come without you taking the first step.



God really is good!

Sadness

Woe my heart is weighted down

My soul mourns this corporeal passing

But wrapped in this suffocating fabric I sleep

Interminably, I sleep.

Strength deprived from its vessel

I sit and ponder the words

Spoken by weary men

Whose intentions bring no harm

But a voice assails me as I slumber

The night-born dread appears to me again

And again

And again

And again

It reiterates its corrosive words

The venom dematerializes my mind

I am driven to complete this hardy endeavor

But my spirit feels like it's being wrung dry

O, Mercy for this vessel, I realize I am not alone

Devil's advocates piercing my mind.

The collector never lets me forget my faults.

The tormentor never hides his vehement assault.

The elder never hesitates his deterrent speech.

And I will never be without...

Melody of

Despondency

Displacement from myself

This world to me

Complacency

And I forgotten on a shelf

Give me hope

For greater things

Of future expectancy 

Of light to bring

My life run down

I emerge dragging my feet

And the men that scoff at me

Somehow seem complete

I operate as a disembodied invention of man

Who told me who I was supposed to be.

Give me the quill that I may re-envision myself

Attribute to myself the qualities I see in others:

Fame

Intelligence

Looks

Love

Wealth

Talent

But they are not mine to gain...

Silent voices tell no lies

Just let me shut them off.

Never share my trust again

Only to be forsaken.

'Downtrodden soul

That bellows under moonlight

The world is a contemptuous place.

Why do you persist?'

I have a death wish...

And It groans in me

But though this be my desire

In truth, deep in this mortal den

I sit afraid, a coward.

I am drenched in this pool, but I can't get a grip

In this depressive state, I feel my heart skip.

But the words that transcend this bleak reality

All of a sudden start sinking into me...

“The things that dare to hold you down

The tyrannical grips of the mortal crown

You have no reason to remain in this state

This deepening aguish you must abate.

You were lovingly crafted for better things

Rise and hear the bell of freedom ring

You are attractive, smart, and rich in heart

Do not let depression tear you apart

The recurring lies that grounded men say

Amidst it, you will sprout wings, and fly away.”

                             by Daniel Santiago

Beautiful, Truly

There is a knife in your heart

Your mind’s torn apart

You’re rocked back and forth

And still have remorse

Yet deep in your eyes

A glimmer resides

A laugh after cries

A hello after goodbye

How stunning the visage

Of a strong, young woman

How marvelous in sight

Is she, fighting the good fight

Her eyes are two suns

Her skin, the oak’s trunk

She stands firm and strong

But still knows how to have fun

The darkest nights bring brighter lights

Just like a flame scorched earth

Brings greener birth

So too the tempest she’s in

Will not bring about her end

But will lead her to discover

Where the next chapter begins

So don’t ever be afraid

Don’t ever fear not knowing

For God’s grace is showing

That you have His anointing

You raise weak trees and make them strong

Yet gather petals in your palms

You are a shaper of history

And the turning point in his story

You are the example of true beauty.

                

                            by Daniel Santiago

Half Wolf, Half Me?

I had fun with the idea of drawing myself as an anthropomorphic wolf animal thing...

I think I look creepy in this!

On the flip side, I wonder in what ways a half human, half animal can be used as a symbol for an abstract concept: In mythology, the lycanthrope symbolized an inner "inhuman" and vicious aspect of man that was used to fluff inexplainable acts of murder. The "inner animal" can also symbolize an inner aspect of ourselves that we cannot come to grip with. Additionally, the half-human/animal can symbolize a sense of self that is more instinctive and liberated.

I guess it depends on the type of animals being combined, but as for the wolf? I think it can be seen both ways. Wolves are fierce, yet are also sensitive. They have been seen in both lights, as killers and as pets. They are similar to domesticated dogs, but have a wild spirit, closer to nature. This interpretation is closer to my intention in this depiction. Not only did I draw this for entertainment, but I also wanted to imagine a side of me that is "exposed" to the inner wishes of my heart for freedom in the bounty of nature, and "transforming" to fit my new environment. 

If you are tired of being human, with all your human responsibilities, you can't really turn into a wolf and escape into the forest, embracing your animal half, but you can express yourself with art, words, and even music. And after you have acknowledged that this imaginary ideal would pose survival struggles and zero admittance into society, you rest glad that you are still human. And you can always still dream right?

Of course, love yourself for who you are, and don't desire to be anything but the amazing person God designed you to be!

Nature's Calm

Peace in the wind and the waves of the blades
Flying free through the trees and the pores of my skin
Lifts to my nose, inflates my chest
Blows on my toes, sings my heart to rest

I am enamored by nature
From the trickling leaves
To the sauntering breeze
And the ants on my feet

Slip off my shoes, walk out to my home
Scraping my pads against the stone
Sliding up against ridges and roughs
Tickling green fingers; smooth, caky mud
Gritty grains riddled with pores
And a great myriad of scattered acorns! Ouch!

Rub out my soles
Pat the dry umber
Dip my tips in the lips of green under

Whoosh! In my nostrils
The wisp of crisp morning
Tickle my cheeks with the leaves on earth's awning

I am an animal, climbing, jumping, running
Rolling in the pillowy moss
Licking my palms against plush, velvet petals
Fluttering my fingers in the plants' hair soft

Brisk, light scent of fresh rain's damp
Fills my lungs as I lay and pant

Skin embraced, smothered thick in moist black
Pores rubbed wet with dew from clouds' laps

My soul runs in the gardens
Vivid light abounds therein
Sprinkle the buds under this canopy
With the star's fire shimmering

Grace the hearts of those who feel the bustle of the forest floor
Hears the chirps, the rustle, the whisper, and the cicada's hungry roar

...And maybe if you listen intently, you can hear God say, "I love you"...

Open your eyes to the ocean above your head
See the sea beneath your feet
Smell the red, the yellow, the blue, the green
Open your heart to love all of these...

Live a little more than yesterday
You will never have the same today
Bless yourself with the bliss of now
For spirits like yours never age

You are apart from nature
But nature is a part of you

So take off your shoes
Walk on the dew
Discover your muse
The old, new becomes you.



                                  by Daniel Santiago

Endeavor

Love

Hope

Peace

Cover me like a warm fleece

Come

See

Find

This life, a sick fantasy

Oh, come share your mind

Open it up, watch the grind

It runs through all you know

Flattening all in the snow

It's deadly! But alluring

It's horrid! But inviting

This life you desire to live..

It seems as though we are aiming for a selfless goal

But we are treated like rats in a muddy hole

Why do we continue straining our intellect so

Running on the wheel, paying an exuberant toll.

I look, I look

But I find no relief

I walk, I walk

Getting no closer to peace

I live in endless

Turmoil and grief

Send your spirit

Come over me.

See your vehicle lacks of oil

The carpet pulled out from under your feet

You're doomed, you're damned, writhing in terror

Your legacy snuffed out, get ready to greet your fate.

Oh, come share your thoughts

Awestruck, what a price it brought

Wonder aloud to me in sleep

Each passing day penetrates deep.

It's hard!

In here

Horizon unclear

No soul around

On this desert ground

We dived right in

Knowing not how to swim

Gasping

Clawing

Finally submerged.

Why is it so that the righteous endure

While corrupt antagonizers find themselves cured

Their disdainful deeds should deem them dead

But instead they succeed and rise overhead

Cursed be they that curse our God

But they walk away spared of the rod

And they that have, receive more and more

While the lacking are sent to do all the chores

See our world has doused itself gray

We grab our paints and color away.

Here is what I want my life to be

Miraculous countenance delivering me

But it is the slight nuance that we do not see

Our "friends" have shown us shallow mercy

Truly you are alone, alone with the book

Reading intently, nowhere to look, but up

And so…

I look, I look

But I find no relief

I walk, I walk

Getting no closer to peace

I live in endless

turmoil and grief

Send your spirit

Come over me.

I look, I look

I See the ball drop

I walk, I walk

Circuitry stops

Beats an echo

Through the cold floor

The pain in me

Is suddenly no more.

I am at peace.

                             by Daniel Santiago

Absolution WIP

Some screenshots from my latest work in progress, "Absolution".

It depicts the desperate soul reaching towards heaven for salvation as evil forces try to pull him back down.

A Poem

The yearning of light fades to this

The one stark dawning of fate’s ill kiss

Upon your heart a burden is lain

And lo, a muted harp and tears long slain

The aching trek of weary soles

Riding the flow between the poles

A dulling soothe of whispering leaves

Left my soul to wander with these

A soulmate slain

A boulder cast forlorn

A memento in dust

A promise of disgust

Die might I in earth’s black palms

And rehearse shall I, David’s psalms

But will not bring me forth to peace

Whilst I know not when strivings cease

Find me a hand to rub my cheeks

To adore me in misery

And worn physique

To whisper a poem into my ear

And to commune with me though we still fear

Now will it end

To my command

To loose my arbitration friend?

I have bound my beat

To the beat of one

That is no less, imagination

So faint it grows

Woes and woes

Stifling still my songs for those

That know me not

Yet feel my cry

Together we are all lonely inside…

And surrender your eyes to me one more time

And I, in turn, surrender mine

And exchange our dreams through passing gaze

And pray God’s will to meet again…

I only pray that I knew you

.........by Daniel Santiago