After all this time
I still think you're amazing
You still light up my fire
You don't cease to thrill

After all these months
You keep getting hotter
Your heart is still as pure as gold
You still touch my heart

After all these weeks
I still miss you
I wonder about you
Can't wait to see you again

After all these days
You're still a miracle to me
I thank God for you
I see my future aligned to yours

May God grant you all the desires of your heart and enable you to live in constant  joy and peace. Amen

What to do in hard times?
Where does help come from?
How do miracles happen?

Though he seems silent
He shall consolidate my weeping and my prayer
He shall answer swiftly and act
In a day all my troubles shall dissipate

Prayer is no stuff for feeble people
It is the language of the heavens for men
Connects earth with the power of God
It attracts the ear of the loving father

Do not cry in vain
Pray
Do not suffer in vain
Pray
Do not want in vain
Pray

What can a man do
To conquer impossibility
To alter the course of a hard life
But to leave it all to God in prayer

Pray it all into the hands of a loving God
He is the one who helps

You were hungry for me,
The sweet taste of skin and love.
You were searching for me,
Grasping me tight when you found me.
You were begging for me,
Don’t go, you pleaded, my heart is yours.

So what happened?

For now, my skin is dry without your love to cleanse it,
My body is crumpled on the floor,
Used and now forgotten.
And now you say,
Don’t go... but I won’t beg for you to stay.

We sculpt clay into the things
we cannot force our bodies into
we string the alphabet
into stories we are afraid to live
we paint with colors we cannot see
and we ignore the music
inside the beat of our hearts

as we forget what it means to live
we muse on what was
once beautiful about being alive
and forget our thoughts
as we stare emptily to the sky

and the night swallows the day
and the day murders the night
and prayers become graveyards
for dead gods
and our beds become coffins
for dreams

round and round the clay
of the earth spins
and slips through our fingers
as time is something we waste
and our reflection
is a ghost of once was
and what could be

if we could only remember
who we were before
we became prisoners inside
our own minds and found shame
in the shape of our flesh

before we needed the alphabet
to speak of love
and metaphors to hide behind
and fairy tales to mend our wounds

back when the music
inside the beat of our hearts
was all we needed
to know that we were beautiful

if he does not make
the effort
to love you entirely
then he does not
deserve you
at all.