Little child dancing
freely in the public square,
may you live boldly.

Little boy singing
lovely within her midst,
grace your sister's ears.

Little kid running
through life's maze without a care-
Please be free, be free.

Little child growing
up through all life's burdens be
always sweet and true.

The only days Death has ever drawn close to me were when he left his shadow grazing over this frail body.
Sleep deprived, feverish, weak heck of a boy.
A soul so agonised over the war within, a mind so twisted and perverse. A heart, that still beats however crooked.
A body, weak; a human, depraved.

I remember those days.
Sickness pays his visits over the seasons.
Fevers, influenza, intense food poisoning, coughs so bad I end up praying "Lord, have mercy" each time.

Yet, I see others like me
Suffer disease like they've gone through hell
Got into accidents that'll take them a while or never to get back from.
See the news and see people close to me been closer to Death than I've had before.

I laid back and watched the sky as the clouds flew by
It just hit me that
one day, it'll be me.

God help me, I'm no different.
I'm barely even a saint
Just as evil as everyone else
To think that in my youth, I'm some sort of a god
an invincible immortal that could ascend the heights and become the greatest of them all.

But then I look at the sky, and wonder
"What is man, that You think of him? And the son of man, that You visit him?"
I am reduced to nothing, my passions, dreams and ambitions are all but folly-- vanity of vanities like chasing the wind.

I am losing my edge. I no longer write these poems the way I used to. I take longer to write essays. It gets more difficult to stay faithful in the faith that I have. The "amazing" parts of me are fading, bleeding, dying. It gets just as difficult socialising when you are not the extrovert you used to be.

Death has already been part of the default nature I so have, though I do not yet taste it.

Still I crave for Life, clinging on to Hope.
Still I live, for Love's good name's sake.
Still I live and wage war against Death, aspiring to be a vessel to preach the Good News of Eternal Life.  

Indeed I am unworthy, day by day I am undone.
Yet even more so, though I may die
For now, I shall live.

Alas, see one is
become unworthy
to question the mysteries of
salvation and sanctification.

When the believer,
the saint
falls into sin,
he is rendered silent
before the throne of God.

The awkward tension
between friend and foe
is felt.

he asks,
"What does it mean
to be saved?"

And though try as he might,
his jaw is sealed shut;
he dares not make a sound to speak.

Silent as silent accusations
pile upon himself.

In his mind, screaming
"LORD, HAVE MERCY!"
Yet dares not draw near
to pray.

Words stir the mind;
Songs touch the soul;
Truth pierces the heart.

It was my past
That held me back
From achieving eternal destiny

But when I looked back
Into the past
I see a heavenly assignment
accomplished

That on my behalf
A price was paid
So that I may enter
The pearly gates

The streets of gold
The walls of diamond
The choir of heaven's
angels roar

It was that past
when I looked back
that I'm now able
to venture forward.

What is worth a writer's many words
When the ink holds your meaning like something
at the tip of your tongue?

When your eyes finally perceive
what your soul feels
and your ears hear
what your spirit receives

When you dwell
be it in high ground
or on low valley
When you look to the sky
or cast your face down to the ground.

You look longingly into eternity
awaiting something all worth more
that this.
Longing for meaning,
purpose,
life,
a reason to live
a reason why you breathe and do the things you do.

Longing for
connection,
relationship;
Longing for
mercy.

It is in the journey of a lifetime
that we realise
the hidden things

When the deep cries out to deeper waters;
When we look longingly
into the mysteries.

Thus it is in those
that our restlessness yields,
and we find peace despite calamity.

When we shall see even the face of God
who once dwelt with us.

What is worth a writer's many words
when the ink holds your meaning like something
at the tip of your tongue?
It is worth more than this,
that meaning be even found in this life
and moves beyond to something much greater
than this.

I admire the way two lovers kiss
It seems like they are
in heaven's bliss

When two shall love
in one accord;
and they shall be
forevermore

I admire the way
two lovers love
It's like a blessing sent
from above.