I wake with a hunger to labor and strive,
To run for the prize and feel truly alive.
I vowed not to stumble, I swore not to yield,
Determined to conquer my own battlefield.
But the weight of the world left me broken and spent,
My body is weary, my spirit is bent.
I struggle to walk, yet I falter and sway,
Knowing I’ll fall by the end of the day.
In my weakness, I looked for a hand from above,
A spirit grown dull, seeking comfort and love.
I wept in the dust of each failure and fear,
Believing my goal would never draw near.
Then a Voice broke the silence, steady and true:
"I am beside you; I am carrying you.
I will lift you up high in the palm of My hand,
And lead you to rest in the promised land."
"Simply surrender," He whispered so sweet,
"And I will provide all the strength for your feet."
I cried out in joy as He wiped every tear,
Banishing darkness and casting out fear.
For He knows my limits, my heart, and my frame,
He knows every trial and calls me by name.
With the Spirit to lead and His grace as my light,
Jesus is guiding me home through the night.
Mar 19
Mar 19, 2026 at 11:10 AM UTC
Ten minutes in a day, a tiny grain of sand,
Yet we fail to give it to the Maker’s hand.
We dream of golden streets and an eternal throne,
But ignore the King today, leaving Him alone.
If we find no joy in speaking to Him now,
How will we stand before Him, and to His glory bow?
We stumble into service, late and unprepared,
Forgetting that the holy ground is where His grace is shared.
If a scheduled hour of worship is a burden we can’t keep,
How will we wake for Him, while the foolish virgins sleep?
When the Bridegroom comes at midnight, in a blink, an unknown hour,
Will we have the oil of readiness, or will our spirits cower?
To know the Truth is mercy, but to ignore it is a dread,
Better to have never known the path that lies ahead,
Than to taste the Heavenly gift and see the Light so plain,
Only to turn back to the dark and make His cross in vain.
For those who knew the Way but chose the path to hell,
Their regret will be a story that no tongue can ever tell.
Mar 15
Mar 15, 2026 at 2:11 PM UTC
An orphan left without a home,
The poor with nothing of their own,
The homeless sleeping on the street,
The beggar with no bread to eat.
Those plagued by sickness, near to death,
Or those who draw a mindless breath,
The hearts betrayed by those they trust,
Whose dreams have crumbled into dust.
The grieving spouse, the lonely soul,
With no one left to make them whole,
The unemployed, the low of pay,
Who struggle through each passing day.
Yet these are not the most forlorn;
There is a deeper state to mourn:
Those who live without the Son,
Or know the Lord, yet from Him run.
Those who sit within the pew,
But fail to live the Word they knew,
Who hold the Bible in their hand,
Yet leave it closed upon the stand.
Those who know the weight of sin,
Yet let the darkness enter in,
Who know of Hell and Satan’s gate,
Yet walk toward that bitter fate.
Those who have received the Light,
But hide it from the world’s cold night,
It is for these we truly weep,
For they are lost in shadows deep.
To enter Hell out of ignorance is one thing,
But to know God’s truth and still walk,
That path by ignoring His word,
That is the ultimate tragedy.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 12:05 PM UTC
The crimson roses bloom in staged display,
A fleeting pageant for a single day.
With practiced smiles, the accolades are spun,
While shadows hide the damage that’s been done.
In varied lands, the scales are tilted low,
Where ancient customs dictate how they grow.
One group may honor, while the masses slight,
Extinguishing the flicker of their light.
For once the sun sets on the praised event,
The grace is gone; the heavy soul is bent.
They stand as captives to a rigid creed,
Where silence is the only soil for seed.
Beneath the weight of culture, law, and pride,
The wounds of body and the spirit hide.
Even the cradle offers no retreat,
From cruelty that stalks the quiet street.
They may not speak, they may not dare dissent,
To every whim their broken backs are bent.
A slap, a lash, a violation deep,
The promises of "honor" none shall keep.
They walk like ghosts within a gilded pen,
At the command of systems and of men.
So keep the flowers, keep the empty toast,
For those who suffer in silence feel it most.
Until the chains of "custom" fall away,
There is no truth in any Women’s Day.
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 3:19 PM UTC
Some say love is only a feeling,
Like a dream or a passing thought.
They say it has no shape or face,
And it is something that can't be caught.
But love is more than just a word,
Or a feeling deep inside.
Love took a form and walked the earth,
With nothing left to hide.
In JESUS, we can see the truth,
The image is clear and broad.
For Love is found in the heart of God,
And the heart of Love is God.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 1:51 PM UTC
The ribbons flutter away from my reach,
The boxes collapse in on themselves.
The things I long for hide in the shadows;
They seem to turn away in hate.
They refuse to come near,
Leaving me lost and searching for a reason.
I wonder: am I not good enough?
Am I so undeserving of a simple gesture?
My mind is a captive to these questions,
Circling the same dark thought for days:
Why are they so angry with me?
I wait for the day they finally reach me,
Hoping for the moment they might show love.
With tearful eyes, my heart asks the void:
"Why won't you come to me, even as a simple word?"
I am tired of the silence.
I am weary of the empty hands.
I love the magic of a gift,
The warmth of a wish on my special day.
But it feels as though the very idea of them hates me.
I never asked for gold or silver;
I only asked for the beauty of effort.
A smooth stone from the path would be enough.
A few kind words in a message would be plenty.
But the gifts whisper to me in the dark:
"You are the most undeserving soul.
No one will ever move a finger for you.
Even if you love us,
We will always turn away."
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 10:45 PM UTC
I thought it would be easy;
I thought that I could stand alone.
My mind whispered, "You must do everything,
For this one life is all you own."
But then my finger brushed the burning steel,
And I could not hold on for even a breath.
In a single second, the stinging heat
Reminded me of pain and death.
My heart mocked me: "You said you were strong,
Yet a simple vessel brings you to your knees."
If I cannot endure a moment’s flame,
How can I face the depths of these?
The sea is vast, a fathomless blue,
And we walk only upon the earth’s thin shell.
Beneath our feet, the living fire glows,
A core of lava, a silent hell.
We cannot measure the weight of the deep,
Or the heat that churns beneath the floor.
So I ask myself: Can I handle it?
The fire, the darkness, the endless roar?
But Grace is reaching through the heat;
He knows your frame, He knows your name.
He does not wish for you to fade
Within the shadow or the flame.
The blood He shed still speaks for you,
To lead you from the path of your own will.
He waits to hold His child again,
To whisper, "Peace," and "Peace, be still."
Live not for the world or your own pride,
But walk the path where Mercy dwells;
For He knows the roads we choose alone
Are the ones that lead to our own hells.
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 3:22 PM UTC
One turns their gaze to realms above,
Reflecting Christ in light and love;
They leave the fading world behind,
In heaven’s life, their home to find.
One mirrors darkness, cold and deep,
With worldly vines they sow and reap;
They cling to things of dust and breath,
And wake to everlasting death.
Two seeds are sown within the soul,
Two different paths, a final goal;
One finds the Crown, one finds the Chain,
Eternal joy or endless pain.
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 12:35 PM UTC
The Light descends from the vaulted sky,
Seeking those who would become His own.
Though the radiance falls upon the many,
Not all will rise to follow where it leads,
And not all will reflect the brilliance of the throne.
Yet, the Light yearns for the soul of every man;
He desires to gather the world into His embrace.
He calls to the qualified those refined by grace,
To ascend beyond the clouds and leave the earth behind.
But the weight of the world holds the unready in place.
For the heart is the gate, and the blood is the key:
Only the spirit washed in the Lamb’s crimson flow
Is light enough to rise where the holy winds blow.
The uncleansed stand at the threshold,
Refusing to turn, refusing to bend,
Seeking the heights while clinging to the shadows they know.
When they stood before the Great Radiance,
The darkness within could not endure the sight;
Their forms dissolved, unable to bear the weight of the white.
The Light spoke in a voice like rushing waters:
"I desire all to come, I need every soul to be mine,
But you must be washed in the blood I have shed."
For as the dark must flee when the morning breaks,
Sin is the ancient enemy of all that is pure.
To reach the Holy Light, one must become holy;
Without the cleansing, without the turning of the heart,
There is no place for the shadow in the eternal glow.
He loves without measure,
He seeks without end,
Desiring that not one should perish in His sight.
Yet the path to the Heavens is a path of the pure,
We must be changed to survive the dawn,
Qualified by the blood of the Lamb,
To dwell forever within the Holy Light.
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 8:10 AM UTC
We carry the weight of what can be touched,
The bone, the blood, the skin,
Yet we spend our lives in a quiet reach
For the ghosts that live within.
The brain is a map of silver and grey,
The heart, a rhythmic beat;
Both are hidden behind the ribs
Where the seen and the unseen meet.
"Don't you understand my heart?" we cry,
Pleading with a phantom space,
Demanding a hand to grasp a thought
Or touch a feeling’s face.
We walk as solid, heavy things,
Yet we hunger for the air,
For the soul, the spirit, the inner wind,
The parts that aren't quite there.
Even when we kneel to pray,
We beg for a physical sign,
Searching for a human shape
In a presence more divine.
But the eyes are liars in the end,
And the flesh is just the thin;
The world is won by the quiet force
Of the light that lives within.
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 3:05 AM UTC