I've often heard it said

how mysterious God is

the way he moves, the way He works

Is comparable to the wind

I could often never fathom

how great His power is

Magnanimous, stupendous and unfailing

but that's what awesomeness is

I've often had many low points

throughout my life thus far,

Experienced the weeping, the wallowing

then asking, "God, why? Why?"

One of the lowest points in my life

has to be when I was a youngling

going to university still

Asking God, "Why, God?"

"Why am I so different from everyone else here?"

Shy, timid, relentlessly lacking a strong voice

Thought of as simple minded and socially awkward

Could never quite fully escape that tag

If it wasn't for that phrase,

"But God", I'd never be where I am

so that's why this is so said:

I've often heard it said

"What a mystery God is!"

The way He moves, the way He works

is not easy to comprehend

But even though, I understand not

I thank God for the "But Gods"

so that I can without a doubt say

"I am shy but because there's God

he'll help me and make a way."

I remember how in what we refer to as the old time days, I as a child would play with others like me in the August's season's summer sun.

The yard that resonated with giggles and games like hide- and-seek, cricket, football or catch. That's the August I knew the days of time past. That's the long of it and the short is the period of September where the days of school and early to bed early to rise would start up on-going for months again till another break would swoop in.

Just one more day, I wish I had with you if then I knew what I know now...that you'd be gone...

I wouldn't have it any other way but to spend as much time as is allowed me...permitted Us to do all the things we could possibly fit in a single 24 hour day.

Lie down in the comfort of your lap, rest my head on your shoulder to sleep, or softly smile as I read aloud a book while in your arms or we two, look up at the stars in the evening sky as we talk about our dreams.

Art becomes whatever the mind thinks imagines creates with purposeful intent; something useful made from anything I'd say as it bewildered the eyes in recent years: art was crafted out of trash, once abandoned regained usefulness, all eyes mine too fixated on that point. Sometimes something considered as "just... simple art" like a fire can reignite the once burned out flames of passion in others' hearts.

To think that something important or even more-so someone could one day be regarded as useless futile just merely existing and blowing as a leaf carried in the wind - lies, that should be cast away never to see the light of day ever again.

Light at the end of the tunnel

A step into the drenching of the warm comforting heat of the sun; when the unpredictable storms of life come knocking at a person's door, hope in the mind, in the heart and on the tip of the lips says there's always purpose in the midst of life's

"the good and the bad" moments but my strength my hope my escape lay in the Lord

Jesus who will anchor my stance though into the dark, I step.

Out from the womb comes

a newborn to life outside

in hunger, he cries.

Goes from being fed

every few hours, to sleep and

back, till he grows tall.

Seems time will quickly

pass on by, as from toddler

to adult, arrived.

Looking back on the

simpler days, he will begin

to miss moments, past.

Work and gaining cash

becomes the only things seen

till alas, breath departs.

I've always been intrigued by the thought

of someday travelling to places all over the world. To experience something like the four seasons, namely, spring, summer, fall and winter.

In the springtime, I'd visit a field of hyacinths or plains adorned with daffodils, where myriads of butterflies bob around and play. In the summer, I'd be nothing but carefree in the heat of the day while the sun brilliantly shines on me. And in the fall, I'd watch leaves change hue and drop wherever often I can.

For the last, I'd like to experience winter but hardly for the cold it brings. Instead, it's so that I could finally see what a snowflake feels like when it's pressed and melting in the palm of my hand. Then make a movie scene reality by building a frosty little snowman.

Searching for peace

in a world of the mind's

making seeking answers

to questions like

What path is my life

supposed to take?

When's the time for

the career, dreams to

take flight, also where's

the husband?

Knowing the answer now

makes me much more at

ease - I'll have to wait

because it's in God's

timing but I don't have

to fret about it, stifling

my mind with the

unnecessary stress and

constant worry.

Telling a lie to spare someone else's feelings? Don't know

that I can agree to that 'cause

I'm thinking the lie I might be telling to someone now could

prove chaotic in the long run.

I know truth can hurt. Sometimes like a blade it can wound the receiver in an instant penetrate implanting deep. That's perhaps when it's taken the wrong way, though, I feel.

The heart can feel weak and

hurt as though it's been dealt

a physical blow. Yet truth,

I'll choose truth, there's nothing

like it to reach out of love for a soul to come to grips with reality. Truth compares with medicine in the way that it can

be bitter and kind of hard to

swallow but once you do, it

makes for a better healthier you

in contrast to the you there was

formally.

The former self,

I knew,

but I don’t like it.

I harbor regrets,

but here it comes

slowly creeping in again!

The battle has started!

It has waged war!

But will I emerge victorious,

I wonder?

I suppose only time will tell.

If I know nothing else,

this I do know

Former self,

I have no space for you!

My true self,

the person I was always

meant to be,

has taken it all away

from you.

I’m glad it has!

The thought of returning

as you to my God

and my family

disappoints me, thus

melancholy I feel.

So bring it on!

Fight, we will but

you will have no hold