Without You talking through me, I have nothing to share.
Without You seeing through me, I have nothing to behold.
Without You loving through me, I have no care.
Without You wrapping me, am cold.
Without you leading in me, am lost.
Without you praying in me, I have no prayer to offer.
Without you knowing me, I am a ghost.
##DISCLAIMER!! This poem is an original written by Peace Mlauli and republished on hellopoetry by Ellestina Jumbe with rights to copyright.
Just like the clouds cover the earth, so is God omnipresent.
Just like flowers grow from mud, so did God created us from same.
Just like flowers need pruning for growth, so do we from trials & temptations.
Just like flowers need rain to bloom, so will man live through conversion and baptism of The Holy Spirit.
John 3: 5
Isn't it odd?
In my futile attempts to dogde hugs from playful infatuations,
i got kissed by steady, lip-biting love.
Odd, isn't it?
So we often look for a love that will supplement us.
I hope you find a love that complements you.
I hope you grow to realise that only Jesus Christ can supplement us.
He will complete us and make us whole.
So I hope you find a love that complements you.
Complements every bit and part of the imperfect you.
For my little sister Florence. Who was called "Poowo" by our baby brother when he was little. Love you..! <3
I took out a piece of parchment to scribble down the things i wanted to ask you, hoping the angels would bring it to you.
I thought perhaps, should i ask why? Why you couldn't hold on to life a little longer because i still can't get over the fact that you are gone. Or maybe to ask if it is really you who appears in my dreams...or am i just overly hallucinating to the point of memory alteration.
I should ask what keeps you busy because you mentioned the first time we talked in my dreams that you couldn't visit sooner because you had been busy. I should ask why you can't appear in my dreams everynight. Like the night before my graduation when you came and we took pictures full of glorious technicolour and we were content.
I should also ask whether you noticed that i am blue, broken...i lost myself. That I am so afraid of loss that i feel the need to push the ones i love away. To ask whether you noticed that i keep to myself so that i do not burden those around me when i break down with the mere mention of "mum".
Or let me just ask for advice. I grew up accepting the concept of broken hearts because somehow humans decided that figuratively the heart is made of glass. But mine isn't. It's made if sand. I lost a grain or two over the years but now...i should ask for advice on how to mend my disseminated heart. For it is scattered into millions of grains.
And for some reason time seems to have gone to a stance. The saying that time heals all wounds seems vague to me now. For no matter how much time passes by, this wound isn't healing. Its hard to think about you, but its even harder not to.
So after contemplating all these questions, i took out my quil and wrote the one question i was desperate to ask you:
*mother, are you well?
Dens vært et år, og uansett hvor mange sekunder passerer jeg savner deg mer hver dag. Hvil i fred mamma. Jeg elsker deg tusen mye ganger. Til vi ser hverandre igjen.
The numerous attempts were futile. The stars warned the moon not to go out during the day. He retaliated... he probably shouldn't have.
And then he saw her, the sun. Her beautiful radiance overcame him. So once in a while he snuck off to watch her...from a distance.
But when he cooked up enough courage to face her...on that day, that midday, the curse was cast. The world was in darkness.