Daily,
New hopes are born,
Old hopes rooted—or uprooted.
Time keeps moving,
The world is noisy,
Everything calls loudly-
Except His presence.

We are more than flesh,
We are spirit—
Like devices thirsting for power,
So our souls thirst for Him.
Electricity fuels machines,
But the Holy Spirit fuels men.

Many are alive,
Yet already dead,
Walking ghosts,
Dim lights
Extinguished by the slightest breeze.

But those who dwell in Christ—
Ah, from afar their fragrance calls!
Their peace is deep,
Their faith is envious,
Their joy a hymn to behold.

Stepping in,
They bring His presence with them.
To some, He is reality;
To others, an abomination.
To few, a visited place;
But to His own,
He is home.

Sweet as honey,
Comforting as rest,
An unexplainable power
Draws them deeper, deeper still.
He knows His own.
He cares for His beloved.

A thousand words
Would still fall short—
For the war in you
Is wordless fire.

But even in this noise,
Your soul is whispering:
“Peace… please, peace.”

You’re not asking for perfection.
You’re not demanding answers.
You just want stillness—
A quiet that says:
"I know He’s here."

And beloved,
That’s not weakness.
That’s wisdom.

That’s worship
In the middle of weeping.

Aspire to be you?
A round peg
In a square hole?
To be in your shoes?
No, thank you.

I can't be you—
An eagle
Admires a lion
Just to learn,
Not to become.

There's no kind like me,
And no second you.

A river
Becomes not the sea.
The river smiles
At the sea’s agility,
Nods in admiration,
Acknowledges the sea’s resilience.

To be you?
Ha-ha!
I shall pass.

The Bible says, “The violent take it by force.”
All my life, I believed in peace — Let love reign, I’d say.
But now, through the help of the Holy Spirit, I’ve come to a deeper understanding:
Sometimes, to get what you truly desire, you have to be mad enough to go for it.

Life does not reward passivity.
You can't take life nonchalantly and expect an impactful turnaround.
It takes holy violence, determination, and divine clarity to reach heights no one else has dared to reach.

People don’t just get what they want by sitting back — they put in the work.
Desire alone will not get you there;
But desire in action, fueled by faith in God, changes everything.

Why?
Because it’s not just about trusting your effort —
It’s about yielding to the One who holds your destiny,
Knowing who you are and whose you are,
And trusting the One who is able to turn your life around.

The verse “When I speak of peace, they are for war”
Is an oxymoron to the natural mind —
But the Holy Spirit has taught me this:
To be a solicitor in speech and a warrior at heart.

Life isn’t always what you expect it to be.
Life becomes what you fight for,
In prayer, in faith, in purpose.

Seasons,
Seasons,
Seasons.
In every being,
Time changes.

Addition to one,
Subtraction from another,
Multiplication to the next,
Division to the new.

Comparison—
Truly a theft
Of joy,
Hope,
And peace.

In one’s life,
Seasons unfold:
Spring,
Summer,
Autumn,
Winter.

Transiting smoothly
Tells of the success
And purpose
Your life unravels.

Seasons,
Seasons,
Seasons—
Mark your season
And unleash fully.

Time speaks,
Time is speaking.

In stillness,
You can listen.

Though it tarries,
It shall be—
And not delay.

I am changing —
Truly, I am a different me.
But the question lingers
Like an echo in my bones:
Am I becoming
The best version of me —
Or just a stranger
Wearing my name?

It lies within—
In your deepest quiet place.
Stir the rivers of your soul
Till oceans rise
And break their bounds.

No being lacks a gift,
No soul without endowment—
Each formed with purpose.

Let passion's quiet flame
Unfold dimensions unexplored;
From steady drops
An ocean forms,
And skill, when honed,
Will crown the work with beauty.

Close your eyes to blind applause;
Open them to the greatness
Seeded in your frame.

Shine—
Till your very presence
Reveals the Perfect Spirit
Living through you.

MOTHER
A word thoughtfully
Spiritfully
Embroidered.

Many pushed forth
A few nurtured and brooded.

Mother—
An entity enjoyed by some
But tasted by so few.

Hurray
I sing of a woman
My world.

I celebrate my hope
Wrapped for me
From God.

Happy Mother's Day
To my Odogwu

Blank as snow,
my mind has resigned—
Not from frail nerves,
but from the loss of momentum.

My fingers wrestle with the pen,
my hand clings to the laptop.
Open the tap—
Let even a drop fall.

Inspire me,
that I might inspire others.

Little by little,
a mighty ocean will stir,
erupting—
Breaking every bound.

Tap the keys, O hand.
Sketch the thoughts, dear fingers.
Just let the mind ignite—
Rome will be built, for sure.

Not unaliving,
but ensuering,
a cure will be found.

“To love is to lose with grace.” — Unknown

Spill thee an ocean
Let the waves wail high,
their sorrow shattering the hush.

My heart aches—
cradling love
too heavy to hold.

With trembling hands,
I let go.

Leaving you,
a grief-shaped freedom
haunts the air.

Young plants laugh—
carefree in the wind,
smiling at the sun,
whispering, “Time waits for us.”

They sway,
but do not root.
They stretch upward
without drawing deep.
Still they hum, “Time is a friend.”

Unaware—
of the soil's silent pleading,
the richness beneath,
the mercy in the earth.
They hope for a tomorrow
not promised.

Wisdom calls—
“Serve Me in the days of your youth.”
But they chant back,
loud in their pride,
“We are the pulse of this age!”

The Master stands,
hands open,
eyes full of knowing:
Take position.
Take your place.

And I,
a quiet observer,
a hopeful heart,
wonder—
Will they hear Him in time?

I was the echo in an empty room,
a shadow unloved by the light,
the prayer that faltered mid-breath—
half hope, half hush.

Grief wore me like a second skin,
and silence knew my name
better than joy ever dared to.
Every yes lost in the valley of no.

But grace—
it did not shout.
It came like morning
spilling gold on ruin,
steady as the hand
that cupped my cracked spirit
and called it whole.

I did not climb out.
I was carried.
Through muck and memory,
through the ache of again,
through the questions
that bruised my faith
but could not break it.

Now,
I stand—not tall, but steady—
not without scars,
but with story.
Held not because I held on,
but because Love never let go.

Let me shine
As a city set upon the hill—
Unhidden, unwavering,
A beacon carved in twilight.

Let me burn,
Not as a candle
Tucked beneath the bed,
But as a flame that dares the dark
And declares the dawn.

Let me radiate—
The glory of my God,
Unmistakable,
Undeniable.

I must shine,
That the world may see,
And testify of good works born of grace,
Then lift their voice in praise
To the One who lit this fire.

It is mandated—
It is commanded:
By your fruits they will know you.
So let them see Jesus in me,
As He is in God,
His breath within my becoming,
Alive in the current of His heart,
No longer I—
But Christ revealed.

No man,
No creature
Has looked at me with love—
Love that whispers:
“Till the end of time.”

Many come,
Wearing claims,
Speaking unity,
But their eyes—
Their eyes deceive.

Don’t hold me.
I fear I’ll break.
Don’t speak of me—
I tremble to spill from your lips.

My heart shuts out,
My mind dissolves
Like plum in flame.
Still, I forgive—
Even when I shouldn’t.

This life is not mine.
I must walk in the Spirit,
Even as I live by the Spirit.

For without love,
You are nothing
But a resounding cymbal.

Be perfect—
Just as He is.

"Crucify Him"
"Crucify Him!"—
The echo cracked the sky,
Yet He stood—
A storm in silence,
Pain braided with purpose.

Lifted high
On timbered shame,
He whispered,
"It is finished..."
and the veil obeyed.

Time hurtled forward—
Empires fell,
Hearts turned,
Billions touched by the whisper
Of eternal breath.

Death died that day.
Hell held a wake too soon.
He made a theater of their fall—
Stripped shadows,
Shamed the prince of dusk.

And when the third dawn broke,
Graves gasped.
The stone blinked open,
And trembling winds whispered—
He lives.

Now,
Time bows to Truth.
The Saviour reigns,
Not behind clouds,
But in crowned hearts.

Death swings a broken sword,
Still raging
In a war already lost.

I sought for identity in men—
Fragments of worth in fleeting hands.
I dug deep into the world,
Craving meaning in shifting sands.

Desperate to uncover
Why my soul was stitched with breath,
I wandered through hollow echoes,
Dancing near the edge of death.

Every day,
Still wrapped in hopeless haze,
I pushed on blindly—
Chasing treasures without a map,
Trading joy for empty praise.

I was lost...
A silent searcher beneath loud skies,
Till that divine, unmarked day
When mercy found me—
Not in punishment, but embrace.

I was arrested,
Not by chains of law or man,
But by the gentle grip of grace—
An unseen hand
That led me out of shadow’s place.

Since then,
Love clothed my naked ache,
Bundled me in purpose,
And whispered truths I never knew to seek.

Now lost in Love,
I wander dawn to dusk
With eyes wide to the miracle
That He—still—loves me so.

If penning my faith
In my Savior is a crime,
Then I’ll commit it—
Again and again.

If voicing the weight
Of my Lord is a felony,
Then let me indulge—
With joy in my soul.

Gifted are His children:
Some take the podium,
Some shape minds,
Some lay down in service.

Yes—
Gifted am I,
To masterfully imprint
Words that travel nations,
Writing His kingdom come.

Fulfilling my calling—
The Writing Evangelist.

This life—
A breath in retreat,
An echo lost among hollow songs.

What profit dwells
In building kingdoms of noise
While the spirit wanes,
Untouched, unknown?

We celebrate illusions—
Chasing flickers of worth,
Naming refuse as reward,
Wading through comforts
That silence the soul.

And yet, the heart knows:
Not every light is warmth.
Not every climb is ascent.

The truth unravels—
A quiet reckoning:
All striving apart from Him
Is wind in closed hands.

So I declare,
With eyes unclouded—
There is no life,
No enduring flame,
Where Christ is not.

I strayed—
A lost sheep,
Wandering far from my Shepherd.

Ashamed and bare,
I fled from Him
Instead of running to Him.

Yet still,
He came searching—
The Good Shepherd,
Tender and true.
But my heart was hardened,
Steeped in iniquity,
I stood still.

Many times,
I longed to return,
But the thief,
Whispering through my fears,
Kept me hidden.

Now I must return—
I’ve wandered too long.
He is merciful,
Ready to forgive.

Yet still, I tremble...
His presence feels too holy—
My sins,
A stinging slap to my face.
But His gift—
Eternal life
Through Christ.

Never again to run,
I step into
The throne room of mercy—
To obtain grace,
And be made whole.

I plan,  
I schedule,  
I envision,  
Dreams take shape within my heart,  
And my mind whispers, Yes, go forth.

Yet, like clay in the Potter’s hands,  
My fate is His to mold.  
Men may plan, but God ordains.  

I surrender—  
Not my will, but His be done.  
A child stepping beyond her parents' shadow,  
A woman facing the world's vast unknown,  
I long to be wrapped in the Almighty.  

For my strength will fail me—  
In this crash,  
In this rush,  
In this restless universe.  

Yet in Him alone,  
My spirit and soul  
Say Yes.

Don’t be deceived, don’t close your eyes,  
For darkness wears a bright disguise.  
The devil shines, but it’s a lie —  
A hollow glow that fades and dies.  

The world is blind, they cannot see,  
They chase the dark, think they are free.  
But shadows dance where light should be,  
And chains are called sweet liberty.  

The only light, so pure and true,  
Is Jesus Christ, who shines on you.  
He guides your steps, makes all things new,  
His love is fire, His word is blue.  

So stay awake, keep watch, beware —  
Not every glow means He is there.  
Hold fast to Him, in faith and prayer,  
And find your light in love’s pure care.

A Heart Cries

Speak to me, Lord —
I am listening.
Silence the noise within my spirit,
Still the voices of my mind.
Let Your voice echo through me,
Resounding, clear, and true.

Come alive in me, Lord —
Be more real than my very flesh.
Align my heart with Yours,
Shape my will to follow You.

Feed me not with milk, but with bones —
With wisdom, with truth, with strength.
Revitalize my spirit,
Nourish my soul,
Enrich my life with Your presence.

Oh Lord, I am Yours.

I know a Hero —  
A mother goose,  
Watching over her chicks  
With love and grace.  
Oh, my Hero.  

I know a Hero —  
She is my world.  
God knows I speak the truth;  
He blessed me with her.  
Oh, my Hero.  

I know a Hero —  
Without her, my life is void.  
Oh, my Hero.  

While other chicks speak  
Of their proud Roosters as heroes,  
I speak of her —  
Not as a Heroine,  
For calling her that  
Would only lessen her strength.  
She is my Hero.

Implanted by hands like no other,
Planted by a mind wider than the universe,
Watered by the river of living water.

The seed buds—
Budding, glowing, blooming—
Under the watchful gaze of the Bloomer.

He has cultivated fertile soil,
Enriched with manure of wisdom and grace.
The flower blooms, shining,
Lifting its face to His Sun—the Bloomer.

I am in Him,
Just as He is in the Father.
I am a branch in the True Vine,
Rooted, flourishing, everlasting.

Hallelujah.

‎A burden on my heart
‎To rest in His presence
‎
‎A burden in my heart
‎To rest with My Comfort
‎
‎A Spirit cries
‎The Holy Spirit
‎Looking for men
‎
‎Oh am I worthy
‎Please, here I am
‎Am I worthy
‎
‎Pick me
‎Dust me
‎Mould me
‎Form me
‎Make me
‎That vessel of honor yielding
‎To You - Lord
‎
‎Oh my Love
‎Search no more
‎Here I am
‎Your burden
‎My burden
‎Your tears
‎My tears
‎
‎I am here
‎Send me
‎Use me
‎Spend my life
‎
‎Search no further Lord
‎Weep no more King
‎Here I am
‎