"ecclesiastes" poems
I am not overweight
Yet I don't love being a size eight
The media criticizing me
Hypnotizing me
Making me feel unimportant
I know you sympathize with me
But I am worth it
Part of Gods eternal purpose
My thick thighs
Are beauty in His eyes
And I don't have to worry about being unworthy
When I'm giving God the glory
he deserves
My self image is perseved
By Genesis 1:27
Or Ecclesiastes 3:11
He is constantly reminding me
That world is full of lies
Hiding behind the guise
That I need to change
Or rearrange myself
to be loved
This is untrue
The God of heaven and earth
Created and loves me
And everyone of you
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
There is a time for all things
There is a time for all things a time to laugh and love and live
A time to receive a time to make and a time to give
A time to work a time to play and a time to be blessed
A time for talking a time to listen and give it a rest
There is a time for all things a time for weeping and for sorrow
A time to remember the past and time to look forward to tomorrow
A time for family friends and loved ones a joy to be around
A time for knowing where your hope and joy are found
There is a time for all things a time for loss and for gain
A time both for times of growth and with them time for pain
A time for time alone with God in prayer and in thanksgiving
A time to ask for help when life seems unforgiving
There is a time for all things a time for healing and for prayer
A time to know that in all things God is always there
A time for peace a time for mercy and grace
A time to see in others Christ Jesus’ face
There is a time for all things a time for life and for death
A time to belong to Jesus through our last earthly breath
A time for ends and time for new beginnings
A time to take what seems like loss to change it into winnings
There is a time for all things under the moon the sun and stars
A time for learning and maturing and finding who we are
A time for trying to find our place in this world and God’s will
A time to thank him for his love and ask that our souls be still
There is a time for all things God has got the plan
A time to know just what God see’s in the heart of man
A time to question a time to walk by faith and not by sight
A time to believe that God knows best and he is right
There is a time for all things glorious and great
A time for love and a time for hate
A time for building and a time for destroying
A time for rushing and a time for enjoying
There is a time for all things in the time that we have here
A time that is important and something we should hold most dear
There is a time for all things
And for it, joyful, my heart sings
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
You ask me what I feel & think
(because the two are distinctly their own)
about the utter absurdity
& pointlessness of life
& out the windows cars go by
& up in space meteors fly
& sitting in this vinyl booth is me;
not alive long enough to know,
but who was seen many injustices--
yet knowing not a thing to do about them,
looks to those next to me,
who have only seen worse.
I do not know why the universe keeps expanding
or why my professor gives Monday exams
or why my poems are all the same
or why people in my life keep leaving
(or why I keep pushing them out?)--
messages marked "read" with no
response or
rhyme
or reason or
rationality.
Maybe the point is that
there is no point
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
A man doesn't have time in his life
to have time for everything.
He doesn't have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
Was wrong about that.
A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment,
to laugh and cry with the same eyes,
with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them,
to make love in war and war in love.
And to hate and forgive and remember and forget,
to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest
what history
takes years and years to do.
A man doesn't have time.
When he loses he seeks, when he finds
he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves
he begins to forget.
And his soul is seasoned, his soul
is very professional.
Only his body remains forever
an amateur. It tries and it misses,
gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing,
drunk and blind in its pleasures
and its pains.
He will die as figs die in autumn,
Shriveled and full of himself and sweet,
the leaves growing dry on the ground,
the bare branches pointing to the place
where there's time for everything.
3.6k
When I was a kid
I remember watching the comedy channel
Not in my own house, mind you
My parents were too smart for that
When I was a kid hanging out at my friend's houses watching the comedy channel
I remember
A slogan
Time. Well. Wasted.
And I remember thinkin'
"Oh! Yea! I like that! Imma sit here a lil' longer!"
I was just a boy at the time and that's as far as the thought got
About a half-hour later we decided time was better wasted building gigantic, man-eating snowmen.
Eventually I went home
I wasted some time arguing with my parents about schoolwork, ate a bowl of cereal and wasted the next 8 hours in a comatose
I woke up to waste the next several years of my life figuring out how to waste the NEXT several years of my life
Somewhere in there someone told me I should do what I feel called to do so I wasted time waiting for a sign of some kinda magicy, Jesus voodoo
While I was waiting I wasted time reading Ecclesiastes and learned about what a waste of time it is to read Ecclesiastes
So I tried filling my time with all the things that weren't supposed to BE a waste of time but then I didn't have any time so I fell flat on my face on the edge of the vortex that is the human condition!
And I cried, "God!"
"Why do you waste your time with a foolish and selfish sinner like me?"
And the almighty, holy, infinitely incomprehensible, incredible God of the Universe replied
"Time. Well. Wasted."
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
Purposes as incomprehensible and wonderful as these purposes
Either you had no purpose or the purpose is beyond the end
The purpose of sitting is not to be satisfied or satiated
Because the timepiece not only serves a purpose, it is adapted to that
purpose
Except it was a secret purpose
The world is a mental activity, a dream of souls, without foundation,
purpose, weight or shape
People in collective idleness are even more repellent than when purpose
motivates them
God, glass, my townspeople! For what purpose?
His purpose and mine is to catch photons and store them in our bones
Lately, as have you, I have thought about our war and its purpose
To have a season for every purpose, Ecclesiastes was right about that
Names of plants, languages of mammals, purposes of insects, placement
of rocks
My friend who is counselor to kings and presidents never lacks purpose
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Not to say there is no purpose necessarily, I just don’t immediately get it
Stately purposes, valor in battle, glorious annals of army and fleet, death
for the right cause
Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose, protect the
young from the janjaweed, the crop from the ****
The knight, the penitent misses last assessment of life’s purpose,
babbling for God to appear
I mean your entire purpose should be living, you must take living
seriously
Sleep with a purpose
Or lose all purpose beyond ****** child *** and food hoarding
Counting is associated with primitive forms of writing, that is the
purpose of poetry
The purpose of school is to introduce us to the world’s innumerable
wonders
Their corners sharp, their lines exact, as if their purpose was to show
the plane geometry of snow
That’s when everything becomes clear, purpose v. purposelessness
matters less
Lonely physics, national purpose
This then is the purpose of purposelessness (and of eating less)!
We will live with the question What was our purpose?
If we are not at home in the world, contributing purpose, we lose our
desire to stay here—and we die
The men who left the machine have started their own business, a new
endeavor by which they will keep warm and purposeful
You go the way of an unknown soldier, unable to assess the purpose of
the battle
Let Greece then know my purpose I retain, nor vex with new treaties my
peace in vain
And shake the purpose of my soul no more
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
What can we do once we are ordinary?
Mother Teresa an ordinary nun, just a woman.
Oscar Romero an ordinary cleric, just a man.
The Beatles an ordinary band, just musicians.
An ordinary office worker changed all of China when he stopped the tanks in Tianamen Square.
An ordinary woman changed the rules about ****** harassment in the American workplace, by accident, just trying to embarrass a Supreme Court nominee.
An ordinary housewife changed the world. In a peaceful way. In a non-violent way. Corazon Aquino toppled the might of the American-backed Marcos regime.
We need moms and dads, teachers and technicians, people who work and people who play.
Pearl divers and trash removers. We need ordinary people doing ordinary things everyday - like being a carpenter - to make our world an extraordinary place.
What can we do once we are ordinary? We can save the world.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
one more for the great lakes that divide and unite her
all on that day:
1. will be a treaty writ tween me and
the cosmos,
they permit me worship them,
even to join them as another
meaningless gleaming,
if i cease to write -
having used
every word
in my kindness kitbag possess -
twice
2. my trials will be certified as ended,
for the grifting/gifting
ability of a man to
give and dream, to fool himself,
man's obligatory gift, gone
the will to believe in
anticipation
3. a full on peace,
no mere armistice pretense
till the no more next one is the norm
for to the sun, submission,
uttering
a confession
already writ
*A generation goes, and a generation comes,
but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises, and the sun goes down,
and hastens to the place where it rises.
The wind blows to the south
and goes around to the north;
around and around goes the wind,
and on its circuits the wind returns.
All streams run to the sea,
but the sea is not full;
to the place where the streams flow,
there they flow again.
All things are full of weariness;
a man cannot utter it;
the eye is not satisfied with seeing,
nor the ear filled with hearing.
What has been is what will be,
and what has been done is what will be done,
and there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there a thing of which it is said,
“See, this is new”?
It has been already
in the ages before us.
There is no remembrance of former things,
nor will there be any remembrance
of later things yet to be among those who come after.*
Ecclesiastes 1:4-11
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 9:53 AM UTC
Remember Him while you are young,
before your days and years grow dim,
before your time finally draws to a close
and you realise that life has ebbed away.
Remember Him before the sun burns out,
before the constellations are turned off
and the dark clouds remain after the rain.
Remember Him on the day the guards quake,
when the soldiers are doubled over in fear,
when the workers stop because they have fallen
and the faces peering through windows fade,
when the doors of houses are closed shut
and the whetstone grinds to a standstill.
Remember Him when people wake to silence
because the birdsong can no longer be heard.
Remember Him when people fear the mountains
and terror finds them wherever they walk.
Remember Him when the almond tree blossoms
and the grasshopper can barely drag itself along,
when all love and desire and passion wither away,
when the mourners come to wander the streets,
because you are reaching your everlasting home.
Remember before the silver ring is melted down
and the golden bowl is smashed into pieces,
before the water jar is shattered at the fountain
and the pulley wheel at the well is broken.
The dust becomes one with the earth again
and your spirit returns to He who gave it.
Nothing has meaning.
Everything is pointless,
an inane transient cloud.
A single breath of smoke.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 8:01 AM UTC
*A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.*
Ecclesiastes 3:5.
long, long long
have I known
the contradictory meaning thereof,
for I authored it,
time immemorial
till the day came
when understanding parted,
left for another prophet,
another poet,
for this how the world's words go,
round and around
left me
re commencing
re imaging
re imagining,
new era words,
newer versions,
new heards
newer mergings
stones and embraces
ha!
"Two of my favorite things"
no, that's been done...
"Let's go get ****** and..."
nope, that's been done
So,
spark sublime divine
give me a second chance,
compose me a vision
that gathers these
mutual funds of
contrasting similarities
in a bow tied connection
singular, worthy of
song and daily recitation!
*her embrace was a stone necklace
around my throat,
sackcloth was my shroud,
to the sea bottom was impaled,
by the stony apparition
of the unrequited embrace*
Ugh
*My beloved's embrace,
cracked the stones that surround
my uncaring register,
the cold still waters that hid it
now boiling from
her gathering me in*
better.
one last try before I repent
*embrace the stones
that obstacle the journey,
gather them in, together keep,
for they are the markers,
you have used,
you have been,
you have exhausted,
so long after the body ashed,
these words will trace for
those that follow the path
you marked with
these same stones
you gathered in
olden days of
simple joyous embrace*
this will,
must have to
do,
for the stones of
the angels of sleep have
arrived and undeterred,
upon my chest have,
inscribed and placed,
while bidding me adieu,
tucking me in,
gathering me to my rest,
a closing eyeing embracing,
in drowsy voices half clear:
sleep prophet,
the work done,
the words piled,
the stones now
mark your the
you final resting place
upon them ecrivez,
In The Future,
Keep It Simple Stupid
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
"There is an appointed time for everything, /
A time for every activity /
under the heavens;" /
—Ecclesiastes 3: 1 (NWTSE) /
A season has departed, /
A season has begun, /
The Circle of Life continues, /
A legacy remains undone. /
The gauntlets I have transcended, /
Have diamonded my soul; /
Therefore, I offer this solemn petition /
Knowing the fight remains to be won. /
In time, there will be tribulations /
But this heart stands adamantine, /
These eyes remain dauntless, /
My spirit is forevermore unphased. /
A time of self- (re) discovery /
Has burgeoned anew, /
We will all metamorphose /
If we look to the future bemused. /
Your potentialities are enormous; /
Together, we are a fulgurant storm. /
Rise, rise, young stalwarts /
You are a Spark of The Divine. /
The experiential cascade is perpetual, /
Incessantly persevere, /
May wisdom inhabit each one of us, /
May we each forsake not to love. /
A chrysalis has unraveled /
Diaphanous wings have been borne, /
Doubt not inviolable beauty /
Always, abides in the light. /
(—Se' lah)
07-18-2021
Jul 18, 2021
Jul 18, 2021 at 4:47 PM UTC
There is beauty in brevity,
Fascination in the flawed.
In between the passage lines,
The answers may be broad.
Time may wink with sleight of hand
Parting, sifting, streams of sand,
And leave us not a grain to cleave
But to the wind and vanity
The Preacher looks out past the sea
Into placid mystery
And knows not the depths of emptiness
that caress the soul with gentleness
Yet steps out in the vast, clear space
Arms outstreached in lost embrace
To sink into the glassy pool;
Walk the floor of siren's song
And be they both lost together
in melodious cacophony
the cavernous, echoing chimes
of overlapping waves.
9/14/12
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 3:58 AM UTC
#…a threefold cord is not quickly broken.
(Ecclesiastes 4:12)
A pastoress once bore a name
which merits neither guilt nor shame;
Pentecosta Charismania
(biblical in megalomania).
Worthy of poetic fame,
a brilliant if unstable flame.
Sincere she was, yet volatile,
she brought it down, revival-style.
At altar calls, she could inspire
tongues of glossolalian fire.
The Devil she would oft rebuke
with lines from John, or Paul, or Luke;
a prophetess on holy crack
was Pentecosta on the attack…
Her nemesis was prudent, able
doctrinally dull—but stable:
Patriciana Presbyteria.
Less given to divine hysteria,
wisdom did adorn her table.
And her soul bore well the label.
No prophecies escaped her lips
nor prone to divinating slips;
this sensible reformed young maid
was made to have and have it made
Elect, correct in doctrine, wit
invested in no counterfeit
her pop’s portfolio lent her worth:
not less than heaven cashed on earth.
Mocking these unseemly heretics
swayed by neither sects nor politics
was Maria Della Romana
Faithful matron, primadonna,
loyal to her Papal rite,
she grieved her sisters by candlelight;
fingered furious rosaries
stormed the gates with St. Peter’s keys
beseeching Jesus that they turn
from devil’s doctrines fit to burn,
rejoin the holy Mother Church
rather than their souls besmirch
with further Antichristian sin.
(She genuflected fit to win.)
God is known in Trinity
but less through femininity:
His three adherents, flamed by One
like braided gold reflecting sun
are Christian fates: three tendencies
or triplicate analyses,
tripartite in judgemental grace
each one assumed, with zealous face
that the other two could not be saved
as sure as Heaven’s roads are paved
with wisdom’s gold and Christ’s pure light.
(They made a most amusing sight.)
Since threefold cords cannot be broken,
let my punchline rest, unspoken.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
The days when the blood of a child still flowed in my veins
When you couldn't be certain if i had a brain
Running helter-skelter,you'd assume i didn't have shelter
I had my whole life ahead of me
What i was living was a bonus for me
I'd have fun now and get serious with God some time in the after
Afterall,for decades now it's been one ridiculous story of the rapture or the other
I couldn't risk being called "jon"
Afterall even the Good Book says to enjoy life in Ecclesiastes
The condition stated there served as black polish on my silver shoe-totally not needed
Life was a bed of roses for me as i jumped into different beds like one in a hurdle race
My skirts could be likened to the length of time the devil can stay in Light
But i was still a child,i'd do church in the future,i compensated myself
The future came a bit too soon,when i aggressively hugged a moving car one night
My fake amnesia disappeared as every word of Ecclesiastes 11:9 echoed loudly like the siren of the ambulance in my head
Grace came through for me,pulling mercy along,for my life was spared
When every other limb but my right hand was cut off,i knew exactly what to do with it
True,i can't stare back at the girl in the mirror today without donating tears,but from today,i put my right hand to work for Yeshua
BE INSPIRED!!!
Jn9:4!!!!!
#pumped
Yeshua's B.A.E
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
My version of life ... how I see it.
To everything there is a season,
And a time to dance a time to sing
A time to go the carnival, a time to wave your flag
a time to go to church, a time to kneel down and pray
A time to walked, a time to go jogging through the woods
a time to buy airline ticket, a time to fly away
a time to cast your vote, a time to revoked your vote
a time to make love, a time to relax and take it easy
a time to dream big, a time to follow up on those plans
A time to trend, in a time of uncertainty
a time to buckle down and a time free up yourself
A time for demonstrating, a time to showed leadership
a time to be happy, a time to be sad,
A time to pull the trigger, a time to seize fire
A time for karma, a time for a relaxing and calm night
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 11:33 AM UTC
3 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2 A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3 A time to **** and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7 A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 12:39 AM UTC
I’ve learned to love modern socialism
As taught it in catholic catechism
Not from K. Marx or even V. Lenin
It was Jesus that taught me and let me in
Feeding multitudes with bread and fish
Being fed is everyone’s basic wish
"God’s gift to mankind" said Ecclesiastes
“Everyone should eat and drink” their need
Christ told us of the samaritan good
Taking care of everyone in the hood
The sick, the poor, the ones you shun
Social Jesus said, “love everyone”
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 11:55 AM UTC
-Ecclesiastes 1:2-11
That which is said to come already is
And was, and so will be again – the sun
Will rise tomorrow, perhaps not upon me
But still the sun will rise again tomorrow
And warm the waters in a little stream
That laughing play with fallen autumn leaves
And all of them swim past a rotting pier
Where little boys with their cane poles once fished
The river currents flow, and so do we
To find our sunlit dreams upon that sea
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
19 For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that a man hath no preeminence above a beast: for all is vanity.” ------- Ecclesiastes 3: 19 King James version of the Bible
Today, I’ve tried thinking.
What that is to say:
Two words, the same, mean two different things. It is an anthropologic meltdown of madness, a twisting torrent of words tearing, a cacophony sweltering like a teakettle steaming. There is madness in the docile, and trees grow on both ends, flowering at the root often moreso than the leaves. I claim to have no wisdom, but in my abounding foolishness, perhaps, I will be wise. Two negatives when multiplied together, become a positive.
In a feeling of staying, I feel I should leave. In a tearing between body, mind, and spirit, one phrase looking as another, seeing two words as something else, saying much and meaning little.
1. Take index finger and extend it in front of lips, holding it parallel to lips.
2. Firmly place it into mouth.
3. Jar finger up and down while sputtering lips.
Much is revealed in obfuscation. Questions answer much more than answers, sometimes.
There are letters in algebra. We teach math with words. To teach is to learn. By learning, we’re teaching…others watch us learn and learn from how we learn…how to learn. Then, we learn from them, those who have learned from us.
One word is haunting in my own work.
“So?”
Somewhere, this is written already. When it’s written, it’s written already. If somebody else copies it, writes it, then they know that they’ve written it already, and all that they’ve written has been written already.
It’s an implosion of my own thought, today. I pray tomorrow, the joy of clarity of my own thoughts and writing will return, and regardless, I thank the Holy Lord God Almighty always for all things. I rejoice in Him and love Him deeply, more than all, fear Him, and praise Him, and worship Him, alone. All glory in all things to God Almighty.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC
She cracked the cover. It should have been cloaked in dust by now. But it had been on display, like the rest. Her life was a bookshelf display of materialism and pretentiousness.
Holy Bible.
It wasn't exactly the latest issue of Vogue, a cover she had cracked at least once every month of the last year. She clumsily flipped through the pages... unsure of which might hold the hope to which she so desperately needed to cling.
She wasn't exactly a stranger to Religion. It was nothing to "try on for size." It was something in which she had been born and raised. Easy as breathing. Faith, on the other hand, wasn't so easy to find. In between the to-do lists, the future plans, and the hard-earned paychecks, she didn't invest much in a provider she couldn't see. Or was it, be?
Ecclesiastes was repetitive.
Proverbs, a bit too dry.
She settled for something short. simple. terse. She wasn't sure what she was even looking for, after all.
James.
"If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God..." A good start. "Who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him." Somewhat reassuring.
She breathed the slightest sigh of relief, or was it a snort?
Continued.
"But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind."
The catch. A l w a y s a c a t c h.
She closed the book, tucked it neatly in between two notebooks, her real bibles. Reluctantly, returning to the reality of unpaid bills and a broken heart.
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 9:50 PM UTC
Nothing has meaning.
Everything is pointless,
an inane transient cloud.
A single breath of smoke.
Think of all the blood and tears
that you pour into your work.
What do you actually gain
from any of your labouring?
Generations flourish then fade
each one replacing another that passes,
leaving no sign they were ever there,
only the dirt that fell from their feet.
The dawn sun drags itself into the sky
then falls back down as dusk comes,
repeating its dreary cycle over and over
with the same numbing certainty.
The wind gusts towards the south
then changes and rushes north,
mindlessly blowing one way then another,
constant in its confused and erratic pursuits.
Every drop of water ends in the ocean
but the seas are never satiated and so
the rivers and streams keep flowing,
repeating their tedious cycles again.
Every aspect of life inspires apathy
and is filled with indescribable monotony.
Each dull thing bores the eyes blind
and deafens the ears with mundanity.
All that has once been will be again.
Every single thing that takes place
is merely an imitation of another.
There is nothing original on earth.
Some people might claim or insist
that they have something new to offer,
but you can guarantee that all it will be
is a rehashed and repackaged cliché.
All that man achieves will pass away
and the supposedly great things
that will be accomplished in the future,
will also fade into nothingness.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to **** and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
there is lavender
in the fire, someone
is tapping
on the window, patterned
with cracked kings and
predecessors.
sarah’s bible, hand held,
open via perspex
and blue velvet
at ecclesiastes
chapter three.
to everything
there is a
feafon, etc,
in italics.
sbm.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
To know the depths of joy
You must go the length of sorrow
To see the sun rise
You must get up in the night
Moving forward
And moving on
When all of life
Feels completely gone
Is the only way
To truly see
Who it is
We are meant to be.
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC
Then I looked again at all the acts of oppression which were being done under the sun.
And behold I saw the tears of the oppressed and that they had no one to comfort them; and on the side of their oppressors was power, but they had no one to comfort them.
So I congratulated the dead who are already dead more than the living who are still living.
But better off than both of them is the one who has never existed, who has never seen the evil activity that is done under the sun.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC