When the past, long thought dead, suddenly becomes the present…
Of course, it’s usually the unwanted past that creeps up – go figure…
So sly, playing possum, waiting for that atmosphere – the crack in the psyche.
For it knows, that with the pressures of life come cracks and fractures;
And oftentimes the more rigid the structures, the deeper the damage,
The louder the snaps, and the more forceful the bursts.
These are words I couldn’t share before,
Trapped in a growing earthen mould not yet equipped
To express the gravity of the thoughts that linger
And roam in the depths of this immortal soul.
I’ve seen things stranger than fiction
And heard things that cannot be put into words
I’ve taken steps falteringly, seemingly aimlessly
To a destination that couldn’t be surer.
“The making of any good thing takes time. God could have created the entire universe in an instant, yet He first introduced the concept of time, and used six days to make the world and man. Patience, friends, patience.” – Makafui.
There’s a song – wordless;
It haunts me at odd hours,
And brings tears to my eyes;
It wrestles reason to the ground,
And dances all over my emotions;
My name is Grace, Amazing Grace, we haven’t been introduced yet.
It’s a pleasure to meet you. Give me a minute or two, will you?
I’ve got a pitch prepared, but more than that, I’ve got reviews.
I’m in the business of transformations – total makeovers;
From ashes to beauty, from pauper’s rags to royal robes;
From death to life, anxiety to peace, hunger to satisfaction.
I take what has been discarded, forgotten, condemned, destroyed;
I remember to dust off, pardon, restore, comfort, assure, protect.
I preserve what is mine, and seek for more to make mine and pamper.
“I have loved thee with an everlasting love,
And I have stretched thy boundaries,
Even as I have stretched the heavens,
Wheresoever the soles of thy feet toucheth…
I have blessed, and who curseth?
Art there divinations and enchantments that do counter Mine words?
Will Mine ears hearken unto the calls that plead thy downfall;
Or will I smite in sore anger Mine tabernacle of Grace?
To err on the side of love is to be acquainted with pain;
It is akin to the fate of the moth – enthralled by flames
Of compassion, empathy, kindness, patience, humility.
To err on the side of love is to realize
That you do your fair share of dishing out hurt,
Angst, apathy, ire, discord, heart-break, doubt;-
Usually inadvertently, but harmful nonetheless.
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.
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.
“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.