To maunder on this dusky, dubious trace
where one becomes lost and is never found
again; deafening his ears from the sound
that cries for help how to flee from this race

Unworthy and obtuse, last is my place
but no one heeds, as a snow falls on mound.
Now tell me how to stand tall on the ground
as I start quitting on this hurtful maze.

But then, my Father soon replied, "My child,
come to my arms, I bring you protection."
From that I ascertained a Father's love mild
who hears and accepts my imperfection,
who dedicates His life just for my earn.

Exhausted, she runs
chasing the sunset that awes
and renews her strength

It's a Sunday night
I watch the flickering lights
Shoo darkness away

And in the stillness
Of it all, suddenly, waves
Of thoughts come rushing

Busy streets, Noisy sirens
People rushing, dreams dying
A life of passion and perfection,
where did it go?

Fallen into an endless pit,
The world has swallowed
a young man's hope. To survive,
he merely lives  to live.

But in between the anxiety
and weariness, whispered a still
small voice saying, "Rest in Me,"
in the mundane and in the unexpected.

He knew then that it's in these short gasps,
and fleeting seconds of idleness
that he found rest, and that was enough
for him to press on and continue.