In the midst of trials, sometimes up is down
And the lines are blurred; Truth is trifled with,
The boundaries of falsehood are extended,
And to distinguish between left and right
Is to choose between a rock and a hard place.
“I look forward to the day when I hear “crack…crash” – the sound of the dam in my mind breaking apart; Releasing all the mysteries it had been holding back…quite sure it would make quite a splash.” – Makafui.
Some say words are cheap; I disagree in part;
For my words are heavy and expensive,
Because they are not entirely mine.
I’m learning to let mine simmer
In the broth of truth over the fires of faith.
Hither and tither I go;
I search for a spot to restock.
I’ve run out of my signature commodity;
My warehouses are full of things in demand,
But absolutely devoid of anything of true worth.
There are those whose stories
Are etched on their bodies;
It’s in every untimely wrinkle,
Each inexplicably heavy sigh;
The weight of each step,
The unconscious stoop,
The wary glance,
The weary countenance,
The shallow smile.
One foot in front of the other;
On a diet of milk and honey,
Easy does it, they say,
That’s how to walk.
“Oh, that the Lord would bless His people, and cause them to see as He sees; the beauty of all He created, the profoundness in purpose, the infiniteness of blessed potential.” – Makafui.