As the plane thundered overhead,
the little one smiled—faint, fragile—
at last, he thought, help had come.
He hungered for bread,
for water,
for life.
He was mistaken.
With trembling hands,
he lifted his empty plate—
but death was what descended.
Fire rained from the heavens,
hell unleashed upon him,
though innocence clothed his soul.
And far away, they celebrated.
They named him terrorist—
a child who only begged for bread.
Yes—
a terrorist,
for daring to be hungry.
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 2:12 AM UTC
The winds howl fierce with might,
Disturbing seas once still;
The waves rise, long provoked—
But Christ aboard, the vessel’s safe.
My soul reflects that raging deep,
Where countless whispers pull and tear,
Threatening to break me into dust—
But Christ aboard, the vessel’s safe.
One day I’ll enter perfect rest,
These trials fading into a song;
I’ll tell their tale with softened sighs:
That Christ aboard, the vessel’s safe.
Jan 16
Jan 16, 2026 at 9:49 AM UTC
The enemy docked at our shores;
Drums and horns roared,
And we knew what that meant—
Death.
We were herded into carriages,
With but consent only on paper,
We were shipped to slaughter.
We had to go;
Failure to obey was worse than death.
Across the fields, young men like us waited.
We held nothing against them,
Yet we carved each other
Just as we were commanded.
After the bloodshed,
Our superiors—who knew each other well—
Signed papers called peace.
And by the stroke of a pen,
Our sacrifice was erased.
Dec 31, 2025
Dec 31, 2025 at 2:44 AM UTC
Amid this raging storm,
With foes pressed at my fragile neck,
Their hearts intent on doing harm—
Be still, my soul.
They rise from every side,
Thundering in dreadful might,
All their noise to strike me with fear—
Be still, my soul.
Stand fast; surrender not.
The Lord forgets you never.
He shall reward your steadfast heart;
Until that day—
Be still, my soul.
Dec 31, 2025
Dec 31, 2025 at 2:42 AM UTC
I laid my heavy head upon my bed,
Worn thin by the day’s demands.
Every inch of my body burned,
And soon I fell into deathlike sleep.
In that land, I met the Lord—
Long had I evaded Him;
But this time, He found me,
And would not let me go.
He kissed my weary soul,
Overwhelmed by His love;
I poured out my broken heart,
As His gentle hands held me still.
I know not all that passed between us,
But I woke with a heart made willing—
Ready to serve,
Ready to follow where He leads.
Dec 31, 2025
Dec 31, 2025 at 2:40 AM UTC
Peace must be guarded like a flame,
For once it dies,
Cities crumble,
And fear walks freely.
Those who break peace
Have never paid its price—
For it is forged in blood and sweat,
Spilled so strangers may live.
Therefore, guard it with courage,
With a zeal stronger than rage;
For peace thrives not on might alone,
But on hearts willing to choose it.
Dec 31, 2025
Dec 31, 2025 at 2:39 AM UTC
War broke out, and all were called to fight.
Young and naïve he stood,
Fear tightening around his tender throat—
Yet patriotism spoke louder.
Thus marched the unknown soldier.
“Why must peace be born of war?”
He wondered,
His plea falling on deadened ears.
“March!” — that was the order.
And so he fought without understanding,
The unknown soldier.
He gave his blood, his sweat, his all,
Yet no one ever knew his name.
Fate turned its face away—
The enemy claimed him,
And they called him
The unknown soldier.
The old declare the war,
The young go forth and die.
And when peace finally dawns,
Those who bore its cost
Are remembered only as
The unknown soldiers.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 6:28 AM UTC
Why the hatred among brethren?
Why the bloodshed,
Why the guile and malice upon your lips—
When all were carved from the same stone?
You let wealth deceive you,
Your hearts no longer know right from wrong.
You see with but one blinded eye,
Forgetting all were carved from the same stone.
Awake, and reconcile with your brother.
Make amends with your sister.
Restore the peace of ancient days,
For all were carved from the same stone
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 9:15 AM UTC
He stood — a tall, dark, calloused man,
Rarely laughed, always weary-eyed,
Wore baggy, faded clothes that matched his moods —
My father, he was.
Never once did I look up to him.
Perhaps, at times, I even despised him,
For I thought he never loved me —
My father, he was.
I won’t excuse his many failings,
But I knew not of his hidden scars,
Nor of the silent wars he fought —
My father, he was.
Now I stand, a father myself,
Determined to break the chain,
To heal the wounds within me,
And not pass them to my son —
As did my father.
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 9:14 AM UTC
Sleep, my son,
hush, hush, little one.
Your father's heart hums for you,
your mother's heart longs for you.
It’s eventide;
darkness wraps the world in black velvet,
yet the moon shines gloriously,
and the stars weave a lullaby,
all for you, my son.
I cherish you, boy.
Your worth surpasses the rarest emeralds;
your laughter stitches my frail soul,
and your sleeping face undoes me.
You and I—
we are of the same essence,
the same murmured wish to the heavens.
You are the yearning of my old soul,
the answer to dreams whispered in silence.
And I love you—
beyond what any words can say.
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 9:12 AM UTC