“It’s such a relief that there’s a God who can bring dead things back to life, and who does not disdain to use broken things; For we’re all broken, just to varying degrees.” – Makafui.
My muse is a beautiful maiden, the most ravishing demoiselle;
Exquisite beyond description; Wise beyond compare – without peer;
Her smile carries the sun, the moon, the stars, every source of light;
Her words are soothing, sublimely subtle,
Poignantly apt, incisively noninvasive, completely compelling;
She is the perfect picture of contradictions dressed in paradoxes,
Crowned with the ultimate enigma, surrounded by barely unveiled mysteries;
Her steps are silent, even the dust isn’t disturbed if she wills it so.
She walks with the grace of a majestic feline,
And the stately elegance of a sunrise.
“Most times, simple words of encouragement help. They might appear to drop like seeds into an abyss, and get lost in a sea of negative emotions or ample apathy; But with prayer, these seeds do die in the abyss, then spring up as trees of hope. The more seeds you throw into the abyss, and the more prayer you water them with, the more likely you are to see trees of hope spring up in the not too distant future.” – Makafui.
“Sometimes it feels like God just pours a bucket of cold water over us and tells us to sit down and cool off. Because He loves us too much to just watch us wreck our lives moving things at top-speed in a 30km/h zone.” – Makafui.
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.
“Peace calls out each morning for my attention, promising comfort and strength for the day on the breath of dawn; Sometimes I respond, sometimes I choose to sleep just a little bit more. One too many times I missed the call. The more I missed, the fainter the call became; The more I slept, the harder I became of hearing; Till the morning was silent – silent, but not peaceful. Then Peace thundered and broke the silence when I was on the verge of forgetting what Peace was. May my mornings never be silent, but always peaceful.” – Makafui.