On page three, I realized why
this book had made itself
at home on my bookshelf.

Unread for such a long time.........
when this passage reminds me:

Forget about the past,
you cannot change it,
Stop worrying about the future,
it is not yet written.

Settle your thoughts in the present...... Live in the moment.

Months and months on end go by,
this endless thirst needs a release.
Swellling earth, throb, throb,
throbbing for that quenching wetness
withheld by teasing clouds.
Until at last with thunderous
intensity, moisture penetrates the
searing heat ........ the storm climaxes:
the desert sighs in satisfaction.

How much time is wasted,
in the pursuit of belonging,
on the feeling of longing to
find who we are inside.

Take the time to look back
on this road you're travelling.
Your life is yet unravelling.
You're creating your "self".

Feels like someone's knocked
the wind right out of me.
Have this hollow feeling inside.
My heart and soul ripped from my being.
This empty shell wants to hide.
The pain and disillusion
pounding through my spinning head.
The dreams and emotions gone,
the flame inside me, dead.

(Psalm 46:10)

The night passes into day
passes into night.
Plants grow wild, get
trimmed, fight back,
growing endlessly,
and I .....
I am still before You

Children grow into adults,
who have children who
grow up before the eyes
of their grandparents - in
the clutches of life and death.
and I .....
I am still before You

Compassion and love
turn into hate and anger,
turn into wars, pain and
tears, cry out for peace.
This endless cycle,
and yet I ......
I am still before You

Here enfolded in your Mercy,
safe and warm in endless Love.
Quenching my thirst, my
hunger, my longing, fed
by Your all-surrounding Grace,
here I am ......
I am still before You

You turn my night into day,
teach me never to stop growing,
from my childhood to my
passing,in times of war
and times of peace,
You are always here, and
I am still before You

("Be still and know, that I am God")

This was never a game
You were never played
It was not some grande facade
to keep me entertained

I was never as true to myself
as the times I spent with you
Yet you were never convinced
that my feelings for you were true

Now I'm done with this
My heart is not a dice
that by will or by a stroke of luck
may choose who's to stay and who to sacrifice

My bleeding heart torn apart
my weary soul gone cold
All that's left are two empty futures
left up to Someone to unfold

I am not the object of your affection,
when you show that affection only in
the presence of others. Or that affection
is never shown, but are merely empty
words spoken out of a societal-induced
sense of "obligation".

I am not your most prized centerpiece
that you can place in a room to invoke
the ooh's and aah's that make you the
envy of strangers. And
afterward, I'm placed in a corner till
the next time I'm required.

I am not your "main attraction"
put on display. I don't dance nor
entertain so you can bathe in the  
attention of the people who, once
this is all over, won't even
remember your name.

I am not an object!