In the neighbourhoods of being,
Where stardust settles on weary shoulders,
We find ourselves entangled –
Threads of life, woven into a cosmic quilt.

I. Constellations

We are constellations, distant yet connected,
Each star a story etched across the night.
Orion hunts, Cassiopeia reclines,
And Vega sings her ancient ballad.

II. The Tides of Time

Time, that elusive river, carries us forward,
Its currents shaping continents and hearts.
We drift, collide, and carve canyons of memory,
Leaving footprints on the shores of existence.

III. Love's Frayed Edges

Love, oh love! A fragile thread we weave,
Tying souls together across vast expanses.
Sometimes it's a silken bond, unbreakable,
Other times, a frayed edge threatening to unravel.

IV. Shadows and Light

In the chiaroscuro of existence,
Shadows dance with light, and we –
We are both, casting our own darkness,
Yet yearning for the warmth of dawn.

V. Echoes of Laughter

Laughter echoes through crowded streets,
A symphony of shared joy and fleeting moments.
We pass like ships, our laughter trailing behind,
Briefly touching, then sailing toward distant shores.

VI. Broken Bridges

Bridges span chasms, connecting hearts,
Yet some remain unfinished, suspended mid-air.
We build with hope, but storms erode our foundations,
And sometimes, we must leap into the abyss alone.

VII. Whispers in the Wind

The wind carries secrets – whispers of ancestors,
Promises made under moonlight, and confessions.
We listen, our ears attuned to the breeze,
Hoping to catch fragments of forgotten stories.

VIII. Quantum Entanglement

Perhaps we are particles, entangled,
Our fates intertwined across dimensions.
When one spins, the other responds,
No matter the distance or the silence.

IX. The Unseen Threads

Beyond the visible, there are threads unseen,
Binding us to strangers, lovers, enemies.
We tug, unravel, mend, and unravel again,
A ceaseless dance of connection and detachment.

X. The Final Stitch

And when our time wanes, when stars fade,
We become the final stitch in this grand design.
Our essence lingers, woven into the fabric,
A testament to our existence – brief, yet profound.


Listen, I say, to the whispers of the universe, my friend. Listen

Why do we poison the air we breathe,
The water we drink,
The soil beneath our feet?

The stars, aloof and ancient,
Smile down with silent knowing,
As we unreeve our cradle's threads,
And stain the blue with our discord.

Why do we strip the forests bare,
Choke the rivers with our refuse?

In the lap of the Milky Way,
We are a fragile gem, unique, irreplaceable.

Yet, we smother the sky in smog,
Turn the seas into desolate deserts,
As if we could find another oasis
In the cold expanse.

Once, we cherished the golden dawn,
The twilight’s tender embrace.
Now, we blindfold our eyes
To the beauty we obliterate.

Why do we forget our duty
To nurture, to protect, to love?

Our home, the whispering Earth,
Begs for compassion,
Yet we answer with apathy.

There is no other refuge,
No second chance among the stars.
Our planet, vibrant and alive,
Cries for mercy,

Yet

We plunder,

We pillage,

We proceed.

In the silence of the cosmos,
A solitary plea resounds,
Why do we destroy the only home
That cradles us, in infinite bound?

In the hands of Jesus, we are clay,
Moulded with love, day by day.
Though we may falter, crack, and break,
He holds us close, for His love’s sake.

With gentle touch, He shapes our form,
Through every trial, every storm.
He sees our worth, beyond the flaws,
In His embrace, we find our cause.

When we feel broken, lost, and weak,
His strength and grace are what we seek.
He doesn’t discard, He doesn’t stray,
For Jesus didn’t throw the clay away.

In His hands, we are renewed,
A masterpiece, with love imbued.
Through every scar, His light does shine,
A testament to love divine

In the potter’s hands, the clay does rest,
A work in progress, not yet its best.
Though marred and flawed, it holds potential,
A masterpiece, so quintessential.

With every turn, the wheel does spin,
A chance to start anew within.
The potter’s touch, both firm and kind,
Transforms the clay, renews the mind.

When cracks appear and pieces fall,
He doesn’t discard, but mends them all.
For in each flaw, a story’s told,
Of strength and grace, of courage bold.

So don’t throw the clay away, my friend,
For in its form, there’s much to mend.
With patience, love, and tender care,
A vessel strong, beyond compare

With hands divine, He shapes our clay,
Guiding us gently, day by day.
In every heart, a spark of light,
A reflection of His love so bright.

Through trials faced and lessons learned,
In His embrace, our souls are turned.
From brokenness, He makes us whole,
Imparting grace to every soul.

In kindness shown and love expressed,
We mirror Him, our lives are blessed.
With every act of selfless care,
His image shines, His love we share.

In His likeness, we are made,
A masterpiece, His love displayed.
In every heart, His light does glow,
A testament to the love we know.

Upon the wheel, the clay does spin,
A formless mass, new life begins.
With gentle hands, the potter moulds,
A vessel’s shape, a story unfolds.

Each press and turn, with care and grace,
Imparts a mark, a sacred trace.
Through trials of fire, the clay must go,
To strengthen, harden, and to grow.

Imperfections smoothed, flaws erased,
In the potter’s hands, the clay is placed.
From dust to art, a masterpiece,
In every curve, a sense of peace.

The potter’s touch, both firm and kind,
Transforms the clay, renews the mind.
In every vessel, a purpose found,
A testament to love profound.