Thus says the Spirit:

Intentionality.
Effort.
Diligence unceasing.
By My Spirit —
You shall strike the mark.

Work out your salvation.
Be ye separated.
The voice of the Spirit thunders:
Purposed intentionality!

Behold —
I have set before you
Life and death.
Choose Life!
That you may live.

I have granted free will;
Yet My Spirit cries:
Turn!
Set your face!
Choose the Way of Life!

Acceptance is the beginning, not the end.
It is the gate, not the prize.
Walk ye through!
Move with purpose!
Run with resolve!
Set your face as flint
Toward the Kingdom!

Work out your salvation
With fear,
With trembling.

The sirens of Heaven sound.
The alarm is raised.
The Spirit warns:

Be diligent, O soul.
Be steadfast, O heart.
For the Day draws near —
Nearer than you know.

Thus says the Spirit.

A parched soil—
cracked, barren, yearning,
thirsty,
sinking into death.

My spirit, withering,
gnawed by hollow hunger,
enlisted in error
by a single act:

The act—
sealing shut
the Word of God,
the Living Water.

My soul,
a silent witness to this wrong,
sank
into depression,
into hopelessness,
into dust.

Yet opening His Word,
I drank from ancient wells—
joy spilling,
peace unfurling,
hope reborn.

For He
is His Word,
overflowing
in my hands.

Like a key and a padlock,
We unite in the Master's hand.

Like a pen and a paper,
We theorize in the Master's wisdom.

Like mud and water,
We form by the Master's will.

No us without His,
No me without you.

Complete in Him,
We edify one another as one.

Like a seed in the Master's vineyard,
We are fruitful,
Fulfilling our unity.

Scheduled
I sketched my life
with bold strokes of ambition—
my mind dancing,
my heart skipping like a tambourine.

I saw myself
advocating, defending—
a smile stitched on courtroom wins,
my name echoing through channels,
my praise in every mouth.
I daydreamed,
I built bliss in a vision
I thought was mine.

But my aim was narrow.
He, in wisdom, drew another path—
a path where mud clings,
where stains speak,
where pain walks beside me.

Like a painter
He brushed a new canvas
and smiled,
“Perfect for my daughter.”

Now, in the path He destined,
I care—
holding lives on fragile lines.
I teach,
I advocate for health.
I cry,
offering comfort,
living empathy.

Now, it’s no longer fantasy—
but His will done.
And in this,
I’ve found true bliss—
rising each day
to walk this chosen road.

In Him,
I see the masterpiece.
Perfect.

Wake up,
Wake up—
Are you slumbering
In the name of rocking?

It is written:
The devil has blinded their eyes.
Do you fantasize
Peace and life in hell?

Hello,
Hello—
You're dying,
Deceived
In the name of freedom.

Run while you can,
Run fast—
Let your heels
Hit your head
If that’s what it takes.

Run,
Run,
Now—
Into the arms of Jesus.

Wake up,
Wake up,
Before you're dead—
Dead in your slumber.

Caged by identities,
I struggled—
I fought
to discover my own.

Jailed by perceptions,
I roamed through fumes—
hazy,
uncertain,
failing to see myself.

Pleasing
a multitude I did not know,
I lost the one I should’ve known—
me.

In one moment,
I saw myself in someone.
In the next,
I became another.

My life, unruly—
disfigured,
formless,
losing identity.

Then came the realizing:
only my Savior
am I called
to please.

I carried my burden
to Him—
just as He promised,
I rest.

This life—still confusing,
still disfigured—
yet I take shape.
A desirable shape,
slowly,
but certainly.

How fluidly
His nearness moves—
A quiet weight
The soul approves.

How full of breath
The moments stay,
When presence glows
And clears the grey.

The spirit lifts
Beyond the air,
When joy expands
And pulses there.

But I—
I tasted lies like wine,
And veered from light
By slow design.

The path went dim,
My vision blurred—
I slipped beneath
My own lost word.

Yet still You speak
In silent flame,
With steady hands
That know my name.

Thank You, Lord,
For roots that hold—
For love unearned,
And mercies bold.

‎Fractured,
‎Yet emerging  insurmountable.
‎A flower bud of a lady I was
‎ Too sensitive for this world's disguise.
‎
‎ The Living Scriptures whisper wisdom:
"Be serpent-wise, yet dove-gentle too"
‎An emotional wreck,
My heart fragile and fluttering.
‎
‎
‎I dragged myself through the mire, Fueled my disaster-
With fear and doubt
My words, a jumbled mess
‎ My confidence a fleeting rout.
‎
‎ But now, without losing my true self
‎I face the world-
‎Not with a mask
‎ But with the skin of a true soldier

‎ The warrior silenced, chained
‎Breaks out of hibernation
‎Wild, unshackled, wholly me
‎Taking my stand - fearless.
‎

Sit, process.
Place your hand on your chin,  
let the weight of thought settle.  
Digest.  
Sketch the craft  
your heart desires.  

Now I see why  
it is engraved—  
Know yourself.
Shape yourself.  
Only then should love find you,  
not to complete you,  
but to complement the wholeness  
you’ve become.  

I look at him,  
then back at myself—  
we are two worlds apart.  
The small connections between us  
try to whisper,  
but my identity shouts back.  

I mistook admiration for love.  
I mistook yearning for destiny.  
I wanted to be seen,  
so I let myself drown  
in a love that wasn’t real.  

But now, I must sift myself,  
slowly, painfully, deliberately—  
pulling away in fragments,  
escaping his grip,  
even as guilt grips me back.  

I fear breaking him,  
but I am breaking myself.  
And so, I ask—  
Lord, permit me to mold  
what remains of me.

Time fades.  
Time vanishes—  
silent as mist in morning light.  
But time returns,  
heavy, suffocating—  
a phantom gripping my throat.  

Love, do you hear me?  
Love, do you see me?  
Cradle me, break these chains!  
This hatred grips me still,  
tight as iron, cold as night.  
Fold me into your arms—  
don’t let me drown in silence.  

Give my voice a reckoning,  
Rip open the silence,  
Gather my shattered soul,  
Mend me with mercy  
before I disappear.  

Tear these walls apart,  
Love me into freedom.  
Unravel me with peace,  
Soulish me to life—  
before it’s too late.

Grant thee a voice to write,  
A blueprint to imprint.  

Bestow thee a script,  
To inscribe with wisdom’s grip.  

Permit thee a spark,  
To blaze through the dark.  

Inspire thee with grace,  
To shine in time and space.

Life like a rose,
as petals dry,
falling off,
drip by drip.

Heart cracking,
Shattering like a delicate ceramic
Heart aching
Withdrawing with joyous assertion


As commanded,
slowly dying—
to self,
to life,
empty,
void,
to be filled,
to be much alive in Him

Silent is the process
But certain is the outcome
A fruitful vine in Him

Abba
"Abba Father", we cry—
Not by right, but by mercy,  
Unworthy, yet chosen,  
Bound by love unbreakable.  

What love is this?  
Fierce, relentless, divine—  
That Heaven would surrender  
Its Son for the lost.  

Jesus!
The Lamb, the Warrior, the King—  
Crushed, yet conquering,  
Pierced, yet prevailing,  
Until the cry of victory thundered:  
"It is finished!"

Now liberated, we rise unshaken,  
Fearless before the accuser,  
Facing darkness with fire in our eyes—  
For we war from a victory won!  
Forever, we stand in His name.

Amusing, isn’t it?
You place your trust in someone  
On nothing but a notion,  
Hoping time will unravel who they are.  

Amusing, isn’t it?
Time spent together,  
A slow unfolding of truth—  
Are you one, or merely apart?  

Arising, entwining,
Each day opens a phase,  
Blooming like cherry blossoms,  
Only to scatter with the wind.  

Amusing, isn’t it?
People come,  
Some choose to stay,  
Others drift away—  
Echoes fading into time.  

What a small universe, indeed.

The hustling,
The bustling,
The endless rustling —
Journeying through,
My eyes reel,
My heart screeches,
My soul needing retraining —
This hush life not mine.

Stepping into my homeland,
I knew displacement.
The air too thick,
The pace too fast,
The noise — a rhythm I never learned.

From a country serene,
I came,
Where peace was my daily bread,
And calm held me like a lover.

But here —
Here my spirit recoils,
My heart protests,
My eyes hurl against the rush
Of this my Nigeria.

Blood of Nigeria,
But bred in another’s heart —
I tasted peace and bliss
In this, my adopted home.

Can I deny my country?
My lineage trips there,
My name sings of its soil —
But my spirit whispers
In another tongue.

A proud Nigerian —
Am I?
I laugh.

Yet still,
My roots — Nigeria.

My flesh seeks to drown me—  
And by me,  
I mean my Spirit.  

Give the flesh a chance,  
And you'll sink into the depths of depression.  
Your spirit begins to fade,  
And when I say fade,  
I mean the whispers of despair  
That tempt you toward the edge.  

Urgh!  
Get over it!  
Life isn’t over.  
Jesus loves you.  

His joy surpasses all understanding.  
Just open your heart  
And receive the fullness of His peace.  

Oh, what an amazing feeling—  
To be lifted by His grace.

Am I a poet,  
Or a scribbler,  
Doodling imaginations to writings?  

Am I a scribbler,  
Or a narrator,  
Voicing my thoughts to books?

Am I a narrator,  
Or His mouthpiece,  
Sounding the burden of His heart?  

Gifted am I,  
Not to my worth,  
But to His glory.

I am His vessel,  
Filled with His Spirit,  
Speaking His burdens to men.

I am His.

I see this far, and He has carried me,  
I stand encouraged, renewed, and free.  

I see this far, and here I stand—  
A testament to grace, by His hand.  

I see this far,  
What once were stumbling blocks,  
Now stepping stones, leading to today.  

I see this far,  
And I know, without doubt,  
I am never alone—  
He walks beside me,  
He lives within me.  

This far,  
By Grace.

I know of A Name
A Name

Powerful yet glorious
Captivating yet Intriguing

A name exalted above all names
The Name

At the utterance of His Name
Animate, inanimate confess
He is Lord.

I know of a Name
A Name

Earth was spoken into existence,  
Worlds unfolded at the Maker's call.  
Creatures rose in vibrant persistence,  
As life surrendered, embracing it all.  

But we, the crown of creation’s art,  
Were shaped by hands, not words alone.  
Imprinted with the Maker’s heart,  
Breathed to life from dust.  

This whispers secrets of who we are,  
Crafted with care, uniquely designed.  
A tapestry woven of spirit,soul and body.
Echoing the Maker’s eternal mind.

Across the seas, I chased my dreams,
In foreign lands, or so it seems.
Through endless books and lessons new,
My heart stayed home, forever true.

The campus life, a world away,
Could never dim the love that stays.
I held to memories, clear and bright,
Of family warmth and Christmas light.

Now stepping back on cherished ground,
Home’s joy and comfort wrap me round.
With laughter, tears, and stories to share,
I find my heart’s true solace there.

In this evergreen land,  
Only two seasons reign—  
Sunny or cold,  
Wet or dry.  

The sun’s golden rays,  
Rising and setting with grace,  
An awe-striking sight—  
Speechless is the heart that beholds it.  

I love my seasons,  
Breathtaking, timeless.  

Yet, my heart dreams of more—  
The dance of snow in Winter,  
The splendor of Fall’s golden hues,  
Autumn’s crisp embrace,  
And Summer, a familiar friend.  

I yearn to witness them all,  
To paint their beauty upon my soul,  
To live the fullness of their story.

I laugh to myself—
I am learning.
I speak the French:

Bonjour, Bonsoir,
Je m'appelle...
It sounds so funny,
Yet I try.

Well,
C'est la pratique qui fait la perfection,
And so, I keep going.

All is busy,  
Tangled in their own rush,  
Wrapped in the importance of their world,  
A world that pulls them far from me.

I long to pour out,  
To speak my heart,  
But not in idle chatter,  
Not in words that fall flat.

Yet, they are all choked—  
Choked with the weight of their headaches,  
Their heartaches,  
Lost in their own silent battles.

So here, I remain—  
Turning inward,  
Opening my heart in prayer,  
Or letting my pen bleed truth,  
In the quiet spaces where I am free.

Oh,
I need more than life can give,
My soul aches, longing for Jesus to truly live.
I feel empty,
I feel...
Words fail me.

I need help, but I have
No words that suffice.
I cry out—help me, Lord!

Help me, Jesus.
Help me, Holy Spirit.