A Psalm:

It is fitting to praise you with joyful song.
It is fitting to make stringed music to you.
It is fitting to sing new songs to you,
to play skillfully to you and to shout joyfully to you,
our God and Maker.
It is fitting to hope in your unfailing love,
to hope in your help and in your shield
to hope in your fearful, unfailing love,
our God and King.

It is fitting to praise you in the kitchen
with spoon and saucepan
with smart speaker on full volume.
It is fitting for the family to worship you
with loud bellows in the car,
with all the windows down.
It is fitting to praise you in the congregation,
in the Town Hall, in the parks and in the university,
in places of further wisdom your people praise you.

It is fitting
to play skillfully to you
to play with drums and cymbals.
It is fitting
to play with bass and keyboard,
to play with gong and cymbals.
It is fitting
to fill the Weston Halls with praise
to fill the corridors with the prayers of your people.
It is fitting
to stand together with your people
with both arms raised to you,
with our hope in your unfailing love.
It is fitting
for your people to praise you,
our God and Redeemer.

Let all praise rise to the Almighty!
He who looked upon me
This broken soul
This cacophonous mind
And wanted it...?
In this desperate, evil state
Down from glory, perfection
He stoops low
To reach into my vile spirit
My craving for rebellion
My lust for escape
My destructive habits
His heart is so soft...
He reaches to me
He holds me through the night
And strengthens me to rise with the sun
So, I repeat:
Let all praise rise!
Let it rise to my Savior!
Let it rise to the only reason I’m alive.

I thank God
For taking from me everything He has taken
and
For giving to me everything He has given
For every step has a purpose of its own

"Thank You" -JP

O traveler, why lookest thou straight
on the road
grave and speculative,
Depriving your eyes such a beatific sight,
See the angelic form standeth behind
the window curtain,
Come, wait, sit beside me, it’s worth waiting,
We both will sing in praise of her
And linger until she uncurtains the curtain.
You say it’s purposeless
Why argue?
Isn’t it the reason our maker gives us eyes?
Isn’t it the purpose of our mind’s evolution
to sing and hail the beauty; at least of her.

You won’t believe my word? Impertinence!
You will be blinded by her shadow
spare her presence; “stare not for long”,
What? You say it exaggeration…
Bon Dieu!
If beauty is not exaggerated
where lies its charm.

Look! her shadow moving, she is
growing impatient as if  getting
late to meet her lover.
Yes, she wins heart in a look
and crushes it in a blink and wins again
by smile.
Monarch sleeps in her bed
Life in right, Death in left hand; she possesses,
Judiciary in closet
And warriors in purse.
Countries bow, world kneel, universe supplicate
before her.
Stop! Where thou going?
Pardon these adynatons,
I’m drunk in her beauty.

Let us sing then, I’ll lead, you follow

Flowers wilting in chilled air,
Waiting clouds to part
To have a look fair,
Of moon…

Do see the restlessness in that room?
I can sense her ***** heaving, repressed
sighs and her fingers twisting, twirling
in exasperation,
It must be a lover
who invented the song, isn’t it?

A gloomy firefly in this starless sky
Searching his lover
Who has lost the light,
Wait not moon, rise, help him
In his plight…

Look! look! The curtain is drawn
There she, my sovereign,
don’t mistake her eyes for stars.
Have a profound look, but not too long;
this witnesses only fortunate.
What? you lost your vision-
But I warned you earlier.
Now, who’ll testify I saw her?

Dear authors and poets,
                      With works that inspire and bring tears,
                       Do you intend the interpretation?
                       Do you mean what we think?
                       Or do you simply write and let us make-up what we
                       Want to see? What we need to hear?
                       We are taught be scholars the deeper meanings,
                       Metaphors, and life lessons.
                       We give you so much notoriety and acclamation.
                       Is it deserved?
                       Maybe it is maybe it's not.
                       We may never know.
                                                   Sincerely,
                                                                 An aspiring writer

Let not flattery, praise beguile
Lest you become another's foil!

Hallelujah
In simple glee
I will set free
My voice inside
Which sing praise God!