#giftings
I’m burning inside, my head scratchy.
every now and then,
I’m writing poetry, singing songs about life.
Heart pounding Time and again.
Because I can’t sing that well.
Lost in passion, I write to find my way.
Drowning in deep waters, I write to catch my breath.
Sometimes void of purpose, but still I write.
A matchstick can spark a blaze.
Somebody please bears with me.
Where are the poets?
Iron sharpens Iron.
this is like grasping for air after a deep dive.
I dig into my thoughts,
it’s impossible to come out the deep empty handed.
You will find treasure invested.
A pearl, a priceless possession.
I write what I like Steve Biko.
You can chain me physically, but not my mind.
Visions of my head wild and free.
My dreams are rebellious.
The time is now,
the Poet In me is rising.
But he is not alone, some questions accompany him.
Is it a talent, is it a hobby?
Am I loosing’ my mind?
It’s an invested gift.
hidden within me all this while.
From beyond my first breath,
On that summer night from a teenage mom.
it was invested in me.
The Lord will never bring anyone into this realm empty handed,
But it is vital that we return to him empty handed.
The clock is ticking.
Work while it is still day.
The night is coming.
Make use of your gifts.
Earn that crown of life,
When the Lord returns to collect,
His invested gift,
He will say unto you,
well-done you good and faithful servant.
You have grown my investment.
An Invested Gift.
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 5:19 PM UTC