Your name is powerful and lifts all darkness.

It pierces the veil of night and calls the light to rise.

When we were lost in shadow,
When silence echoed loudest
Your name was spoken

And the silence broke.
The tombs cracked open.
The earth sighed with hope.

By your name, fear is scattered,
Chains are loosed,
And the barren hearts bloom once more.

Your name is fire without smoke,
A song no grave can silence.
Let it be sung on our breath and burned into our bones.

We rise in the name that lifts all darkness.
We walk by the flame that never falters.
We praise, not as those who beg for light,
But as those who carry it.

Amen.

James and Geof never overtake left,
Of lane-hogging habits, they feel quite bereft.  
With mirrors adjusted and signals pristine,  
They drive like true scholars of Highway Code green.

They glide through the byways with patience and grace,  
Not swayed by the urge to win every race.  
No tailgating fury, no horns out of line,  
Just courteous cruising, civil and fine.

They banter in traffic with laughter and song,  
A playlist of classics to help them along.  
“Indicators save us!” declares Geof with cheer,  
As James nods in rhythm - both hands on the gear.

Through roundabouts daunting and slip roads obscure,  
They navigate calmly, their manners mature.  
No road rage, no weaving, no impolite zip,
They cherish the journey, not just the trip.

So, here’s to the drivers who think as they steer,  
Whose etiquette shines in the sixth motorway gear.  
And may others who see them, perhaps feel impressed,  
That James and Geof never overtake left.

O, T, T, begin the spree,  
F, F, S, S, join the jubilee.  
E comes next with elegant flair,  
N's not far, high in the air.  
T struts in, all bold and then...  
We’re queued for E and T again!  

Numbers marching, letters in tow,  
A cryptic parade with a lyrical flow.  
They don’t count sheep, they just rhyme tight,  
The alphabet’s way of counting at night.

Two old soldiers, battle-worn,
With ink and beard where pride is sworn.
Through Norwich lanes, they take the test,
To see which driver ranks the best.

James, an ADI, wise and keen,
Guides the wheel with eyes so keen.
His task: to judge, to teach, to show,
Where skills excel and where they grow.

Yet more than marks on asphalt grey,
It’s shared respect that lights the way.
For once they stood in boots and gear,
And now they drive with just as clear --

A steady hand, a focused mind,
Trained in years of duty signed.
And waiting home when journeys end,
Are laughing girls and love to send.

For driving's more than turns and speed,
It’s careful hands, it’s thought, indeed.
A soldier’s past, a father’s care,
All reflected – everywhere.

My feet start dancing on their own,
A wild compulsion seeds where I roam.
The bed it calls yet the road sings louder,
Every step a rebellion, a freedom devoured.

No corners or confines can hold this heart,
For restlessness and wanderlust are never apart.
I pack my dreams, my humour, and a hat with flair,
Off I venture - leaving behind every chair!

If pavements could talk, they'd say, “There goes that spark!”
Chasing horizons, from sunrise till dark.
This curious urge defines my constant quest:
To roam the world and learn from each jest.

So here’s a salute to the wandering, wild and free,
For ecdemomania is not just a word;
it’s a key To unlocking life’s adventures, one silly step at a time,
A joyful pilgrimage filled with rhythm and rhyme!

Upon the floor, debates ignite,
They argue left, they argue right.
A filibuster drags the night,
A senator sighs, Oh what a sight.

The bills pile up, gridlock in place,
A lawmaker’s face turns red in haste.
Tempers flare, objections rise,
Committee rooms erupt with cries.

Then through the chamber, swift and loud,
One congressman breaks from the crowd!
With forceful grip and righteous vim,
They toss a binder - right at him!

Through marble halls and polished doors,
Defenestration takes the floor.
No policy fixed, no law is passed,
But someone went through glass at last!

The shelf I built stands tall and proud,
Well -- almost tall, a little browed.
The legs are wobbly, joints askew,
It’s leaning like it’s had a few!

I step back, scratch my head and sigh,
This wasn’t meant to tilt and pry.
The blueprint said, “align with care,”
Yet here it sways -- a lopsided chair!

The screws are in, the nails are tight,
And still, it looks… well, not quite right.
Call it charm or odd design,
But cattywampus work is mine!