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As I look upon the rich glistening hills
And the blue sky, I gasp in awe.
Not at its beauty, but at how intricate, delicate, deliberate
And beautifully they were made.

Every hill, every shred of grass and every cloud.
I think of how I was made and I am amazed.  

If my God created all these around me
And my God created me,
How beautifully and gently did He make me? 

I rejoice and praise God,
I praise Him that He made me.
With a heart and soul to feel,
Rejoice and delight in all creation.
 
Suddenly, all my worries all feel futile,
Worries about my future, my calling, my spouse, my family, my children, my life... everything.

If God created everything on the face of this earth with such grandeur,
And He said we were the greatest creation He made...

The only creation He loved enough to die for, then how beautiful would His plans for my life be? How beautiful would my family be?
How beautiful would "this painting" (me) be, when it is completed by my painter? 

His final masterpiece.  We are His final masterpiece.  What else can we do but live in His presence all our lives and do whatever He calls us?

Since He is the author and finisher of our lives, He perfects everything He touches.  My soul cries out to my Lord, "Praise the Lord, praise the Lord forever and ever, amen."
I thought I had knew
who I wanted you to be,
turns out I didn't have a clue,
till you appeared before me.

I've watched too many shows,
they gave me false impressions.
I've had too many blows,
I've lost all my expectations.

I focused on the wrong things,
they distracted me away.
The promises of love they say,
I fell to their prey.

I thought I had lost,
But I actually gained.
What I had learnt,
was worth all that pain.

I learnt that I'd been shallow,
and that I didn't look deep,
deep into the heart and soul,
the things that I could keep.

And now I won't be fooled again,
I won't let you go.
I know a man of character,
is precious as fine gold.

Through the years of refining,
still he will remain,
older than before,
better than before,
and by my side, he'll stay.
This poem speaks of how my expectations started to shift more towards focusing on what's inside than outside, and my journey through my immature and shallow dating days of the past.
In your budding years,
they said you weren't beautiful.
Little did they know,
that a day would come,
when your petals would spread gloriously,
such sweet aroma, such beauty...
That was the day you started to bloom.

And then they spoke again.  
This time they said,
That you needed to draw attention,
to gain admiration.
And that being desirable,
made you valuable.

So you wanted to stand out,
from among the crowd.
"All eyes on me,
So that the people would see,
my charm, my wit, my beauty."

But then you looked into the mirror,
and you didn't like what you saw.
You didn't look like that ******* TV.
Your flat nose, your round face,
Your eyes that aren't as deep set.
Since she was the definition of pretty,
you wallowed in self-pity,
obsessing over your own flaws.

So you got busy.
Busy putting makeup,
and covering up flaws.
Concealing, contouring.

Busy dressing up,
Trying to look ****,
Showing what you got,
so that people think you're hot.

But you got it all wrong.
For they were all wrong.

They didn't tell you,
that there is beauty in modesty.
And that drawing people with your body,
might end up leaving you lonely.

And that relying on other's validation,
would always lead to disappointment.
And that everyone out there,
really just wants someone to care.

That always drawing attention,
is a selfish expression,
and that giving attention,
may warrant more admiration.

They didn't tell you,
that you were beautiful,
even before bloom,
even before budding,
even before birth.

They didn't tell you,
that you were beautifully,
and wonderfully made by God.
And that what you thought were flaws,
God called beauty.
This is a poem on how the views of society affects young women as we grow up.  I hope this will bless many beautiful ladies out there, and that they will start focusing on the beauty they were blessed with, and not fumble in insecurity.
I am sick and tired,
of wishing on a star,
sick of waiting here,
wondering where you are.

People seem happy,
they've found their true love.
I act like I'm not envious,
sometimes I'm acting tough.

I act like it is easy,
to bury all the hurt.
I act like breakup's nothing,
it's just another word.

I tell people I've moved on,
I tell them with my smiles.
I tell them I'm okay,
but that's just what I say.

I know that if I told them,
there's nothing they can do.
If I selfishly told them,
they'll be troubled too.

So I will continue,
going around with a smile.
Finding meaning, finding purpose,
So my life wouldn't be dull.

I don't know if you're like me,
But if you are,
you're not alone.

I just wanted to tell you,
your happiness is your own.
And we don't need someone to make it happen again.
We don't need someone to lead us out of the pain.
We just got to start moving on.
Someday, maybe,
I'll be able to relay
Those letters to you.
Maybe someday,
In the near future, maybe;
The postcards I sent
To your heart,
Will finally reach you.

It might have lost its way,
But it will surely
Reach you someday.
As you read in the words,
In the words, they say;
"I loved you yesterday".

P.S.
I still love you today
In this world of capitalism,
we're driven by consumerism.
We act out of a sense of entitlement.

We think we deserve our rights,
and just for that we'll fight.
But for some to win,
others have to lose.

We're so competitive,
we care so much whether we're productive,
that we end up being exploitative.

We need to think carefully,
if we can live with ourselves comfortably,
when our gain,
is being built on another's pain.

Perhaps we should really see,
that we're not much different,
You and Me.

We're all humans that feel,breathe and live.
Love is patient,
It willingly waits,
Accommodating the pace,
of others,
it is never in a haste.

Love is kind,
It provides support for the long haul,
even in the heaviest downpours.
It appreciates the efforts others make,
However small.

It does not envy, it does not boast.
It exudes humility wherever it goes.
Love is not proud,
"I" is never what it's about.
Love is not rude,
even when it's in a foul mood.

It is not self-seeking,
It does not fight for rights.
Love is not easily angered,
It does not stir up fights.

It keeps no records of wrongs.
Love is forgiving.
It is always protecting,
rather hurting itself than hurting another.

It is always trusting, hoping and persevering even
when the person repeatedly does the wrong thing.
Love never fails.

This is the love that I have.
The love bore to me in death.
When you died on that cross,
You paid the cost.

And now, I'm no longer lost.
Inspired by 1 Corinthians 13, it is used to describe Christ's love for us.
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