Writers Block.

I put pen to parchment but the ink doesn't bleed.
I put fingers to Keys but the words just don't come.
The guitar is silent, inspiration recedes.
My mind is empty, my heart can't be fathomed.

And in the ensuing silence.
The all consuming violence.
As a million voices scream as one.
And merge in deafening resonance.
That unbalanced surge of pure temperance.
Makes me come undone.

What do you say, when the words don't come?
When your brain, soul and heart are struck dumb?
Nothing inspires, thinking just tires, passion expires, and desires succumb?

When you long to express, and life's mysteries undress.
And the tension and stress leave you wounded and pressed.
When inspiration flees,
And leaves you on your knees,

What do you do?
What do you say?
How do you move?
What do you play?

Do you surrender and let silence reign?
Harbour ignorance and sail on insane?

(Or you could rock the boat and get free,
By writing on writers block like me:)

Contrary Contradictions.

If you haven't almost died.
You've never really lived.
If you've never cried.
You've never forgiven.

If you've never broken your heart.
You've never loved.
If you've never fallen apart,
Then your still up above.

Playing it safe.
Not really alive.
A puppet, a slave.
You just survive.

But if you never slipped.
You could never stand.
If you never stumbled.
You'd have never walked.
If you never failed to understand.
You'd have never stuttered,
Never talked.

So make your own mistakes.
Try the unknown stakes.
Play hard for the win.
Sacrifice the board for your king.

Challenge the records of fate.
The failures reward is faith.
Because as long as we can strive for what we have not seen.
We may be wrong but we're alive in our love and longing.

And when we leave this plane.
Even if the world forgets,
Our failures, faces, our names.
We face our maker with no regrets.

Rain

The shadows slide over the sun.

The silver linings turn to grey.

The light of day comes undone.

The cold wind turns to rain.

No lightning scars the heavens.

No rumble of thunder.

Nothing but the cold earths summons.

Nothing but the rains whisper.

Lost in the cold embrace.

Tossed by the wind no more.

Discarding realities embrace.

I cross onto memories shore.

Lost in the wind. Soaked to the skin.

Every sense muted to the air.

It's you I feel, Tangible real.

Your presence. right there.

The thunder rolls, the illusion folds.

My eyes open, from lies awoken.

Your gone.

A new rain falls, a new pain calls.

My face stained, my heart maimed.

But It just Rains on...

Smile.

I have my meals on time.
I get through life just fine.
I can work and rhyme.
I have so much that's mine.

But why can't I smile?

You live with your kid on the street.
You barely have what you need.
You wear broken shoes on your feet.
Your poor, your hurt, you bleed.

You smile?
How?
When you hold your child.
Even now.

When she sleeps in your embrace.
When you feel her caress.
Like the lines across your face.
Attest that you known life's bliss.

My wealth is cursed by your poverty.
My health is mocked by your infirmity.
That even with all this, the bliss of a smile in my life most glossed,
Is defiled and lost on me

While you and your child are poor with a smile.

Surrendering.

Surrender my hopes to the gallows.
Untie my dreams to the wind.
Renounce the Idols I follow.
Relinquish my all to my king.
Enough of this futile existence.
Nothing else from this life will I claim.
Death will come as I drop my resistance.
Emptiness will be my claim to fame.
Release your spirit within me.
Indwell the void make it whole.
Now father let my life be for your glory.
God to you I surrender control.

Galatians 2:20
How Paul could say this with so much confidence I will never understand... He literally let himself cease to exist, to the point he could say, I no longer live Christ lives in me... I wonder if there are moments when I surrender my life only to reclaim it again when the work or the task at hand is completed by God. I wonder if I take my yoke when I need Christ to carry me through, and lay it down when I've fulfilled 'what is required of me'.

I had one of those moments last Thursday... I was speaking to a friend about why some people seem more endowed with the gifts of the spirit than others and God seemed to be speaking through me, cause what I said was not a part of any knowledge I had, but as this thought came to me, I felt the pride well up inside me and before I knew it, I had interrupted the Spirit of God. I was dumbfounded. speechless. and as I sat there having paused mid sentence talking to my fried, (he looked expectantly at me while I pondered all of this), two things dawned on me, and God impressed one thing on my Heart.

I knew for the first time that YES!!! God can speak through me, And I realized that the only thing preventing Him from using me was myself and the parts of my heart and consciousness that are not surrendered to Him. God impressed on my heart the sadness of the moment though... 'The moment passed Nilan, you took controll back'

What if I stayed surrendered to him a moment longer, what if I never took back controll? Would my friends doubts finally be laid to rest? Would my own? The sad things is I will never know... But I did learn something from the experience... I never in my life have wanted more to merge those moments of surrender when he ministers and uses me into a life that embraces the cross than I do now. But until I lay down this broken crown of pride and pick up my cross, I will never know what could be.

And who knows maybe it's not a case of a moment maybe that moment is right now, maybe rather than all those moments growing and merging into a life of death, that is surrendered to Christ, and knowing that it is thus. Maybe it's simply a case of knowing that he is in me and choosing to obey him until it becomes second nature and before I know it He is in control, He becomes first nature, the Spirit renews my mind, And I am transformed in death into Him. Living on as a living sacrifice. (Romans 12:1)

Orion's shield.

Neon constellations,
Mountain air conditioning.
Lunar night light illumination,
Open meadow bedding.
Architecture, stony pillars, wooden eaves.
Amenities of nature, running water, ceiling leaves.

The night is deep the light creeps in I fight sleep.

And then the light show begins,
As the night slowly ends.
Neon turns to gold.
Orion's fires turn cold.
Then clouds once silver spires,
Touch Orion's furnace fire.
Turn to blazing thunder heads.
Burning violent violets, raging reds.

Like molten metal with an ocean mantle.
It is cast and yields, at last cold blue steel.
With silver wisps of steam.
And I wonder lost in the dream.
As Orion lifts the shield,
Heaven and his form are concealed.

Concealed in new cold smelted smoldering metal blue.

Silenced in the violence.
Entranced by the ambiance.
Somewhere in between.
Reality and fantasy.
Imaginations and perceptions.
A mind chained to the scene and one finally set free.

Free

Plain tea and wide open spaces.
The sea and coconut benches.
The blue above concrete arches.
Free... You and me.

Living words of divine essence.
Hear your whisper in silence.
Whisper praise, penitence, converse,
Free.. You and me.

These quiet moments we escape,
To city roof or ocean cape.
My chained heart you begin to shape,
Free... You and me.

When I pass through deaths dark door.
One day at last shift through the floor,
To a world where only the living go,
Free... You and me.
For eternity.

The moments I treasure most are those silent moments with God amid the chaos of life. The moments he takes when he reminds me of his presence in my day. With a sunset, a word, a movement of his spirit. And the moments I give him when I make time for him. I find in those moments that I can be myself with the Creator who made me who I am, and the Savior who drew me to Him. That freedom is what refreshes me, It's what I crave, It's what Adam lost, It's what Christ won back, It's the Spirit living inside those who surrender. It's what makes us free. Even when we have chains on our hands, on our time, on our work, and our mind.

And I can't wait until these moments merge in death into a surge of eternity, of freedom with Him.

It is for freedom He set us free, and who He sets free is free indeed...
(Galatians5:1/John8:36)

Saturday Morning Cartoons

A mad rush to work.
catch the bus, control quirks.
Filing, lunch, mails and calls.
Mailing huched, shrinking walls.
Computers slow, neon lights.
Need time, time to go almost night.

Chaos.
Riotous Pointlessness.
A lost mess without a purpose.

How I long for silence.
For the sweet song of laziness.
To wake up at noon,
To Saturday morning cartoons.
To the sweet whirls of the wind whistling through the trees.
The chirp of squirrels, sun on my skin and the soothing breeze.
Light sweat on the head, the blossoms perfume in the light of the moon.
Then lie in your bed, after playing in your room,
And wait instead for Sunday morning cartoons.

How did we complicate something so simple?
Something so perfect?
In our search for more, we lost a life truly enviable.
In our search for the finer things we were afflicted.

We lost our ability to appreciate the profoundly, simple folly that makes life worth living.

The wind on our skin, the smell of the rain, Sleeping in, snoozing, the dull buzz in your brain as you wake up.
The awe of watching the discovery channel, Or drinking tea off the kettle, instead of the cup.
Sucking on ice to soothe your burnt tongue, Feel the warmth of the night meal in your lungs.
Sitting and watching the flowers sigh, Lying in the grass and watching birds fly by.
Listening for the sounds of trees growing, Enjoying doing things,
Simply because you don't need to do them.
Like writing a random poem.
Counting the stars up above.
Or sitting and musing about the things you love.

Yes I know I'm mentioning the same stuff again for effect.
Notice how even repeated it still sounds perfect.
Cause no matter if the world grows cold.
These little things never get old.

This is the Sabbath that was stolen from man.
This is what we surrendered at the fall.
This is what we lost and fail to understand.
To earn a little, we gave away it all.
We gave away our best.
We surrendered our rest for toil.
Looking back we see life spoiled.


That's the other reason Jesus came I guess.
To proclaim rest and freedom to all.
Not just to redeem our fall.
So that we could receive God's best.
His peace, His rest.

Dedicated to Niruban, and our Luggers who like us, savor Saturday morning cartoons.
May they never seem childish to us.
And may God take us home to him before they do.

Faithful.

From the very beginning I was not hidden from you.
Above the stormy ceiling you kept my lost soul in view.
I sank to the deep where I could not see your face.
Truly will you keep me always within your grace?
Have I not always stood against your holy purpose?
Found beneath the waves why'd you help me resurface?
Unfailing sure and faithful, love that I do not deserve.
Love so pure and beautiful, demands love without reserve.

I was thinking back today to the first discipleship group I was entrusted with. We started out with four guys and time and the world whittled the group down to two guys who I was starting to get very attached to. Yet I was not doing well in my walk with Him back then, and my life was extremely messy. So between the sin and the loss and everything else Satan had me by the tail with guilt.

One day I remember walking to the bus halt through the (Viharamadevi) park after a particularly bad meeting (which I attributed to a particularly sinful day), I felt an immense sense of hopelessness and shame, and I felt for the first time in my life like I fit in to (Hebrews 10:26-27) That I had sinned deliberately despite my knowledge of the gospel and Christ, and now all that was left was to fearfully await the judgement to follow as no sacrifice for sin was left for me.

The thought sent a chill through my whole body, and a sense of hopelessness over came me. I remember stopping for a moment as my breath caught in my chest. My head suddenly was flooded with questions, and doubts, and my feelings responded. "What if it's hell after all? I know I deserved it from the beginning? But what do I do? Does this mean I walk away? What's the point if I never see him?" That last question... What's the point if I never see him? Never see the man who I knew, despite everything loved me amazingly. Who had spoken to me and called me to his service, could his love really not save me now? Will I never hear him say welcome home son, come and enter my rest? If that were the case... If I never got to see Jesus would I walk away?

For a moment I considered it... then I remembered what life was like before Him. The hopelessness at sin, the pointlessness of life, the anger and rage at never feeling whole. I remembered the first time I knew I was saved,the release the joy. I remembered the ways Satan tried to tear down my faith, and how real he was. And the decision was easy. Even if all I had left was a fearful expectation of judgement, I would do everything in my power to keep those entrusted to me safe and help them grow, and I would reach out with the Gospel to anyone I could so they could know the same love I knew. Most importantly I resolved that even if Satan had somehow "got me" I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that I would go quietly into the night, but rather would fight tooth and nail to proclaim freedom to captives, and bind up the brokenhearted, even if there was still going to be hell to pay.

I walked out of that park with a resolve and fervor, that carried me through long enough for me to come to a more complete understanding of the Gospel, (that my salvation never depended on me in the first place, but was a gift, and my Good works are a response to his love and spirit living in me.) and His faithfulness, and that He never left me, all that had happened was that my focus had drifted, pulled away by a feeling. a feeling that overcame what my heart should have known all along. I got to see those following me as I follow Christ grow into fine young stewards of the gospel, servants of God who will soon have disciples of their own. More importantly I came to a more clear understanding of God's unfailing love for me. And how I will never understand it. :)

Still looking back I feel like I lack the fire I had to serve him, which I had on the day I thought he had given up on me. Sure, my resolve to love and keep those entrusted to me on the right path has only grown stronger, and I have grown more faithful to him. But that desperation for him, for his presence, comfort and peace, and that desperation to serve him seems far away. My heart has grown comfortable in his faithfulness, and I have become weak, complacent and lazy in certain ways. I long for that passion to serve him that was drawn out from my heart when I felt all was lost. I even wish I didn't know what I know now in certain ways regarding his grace and faithfulness, because maybe if I felt I could lose him I would find that same passion to serve him.

Maybe one day He will remind me of how desperate the situation is. That many are lost and my every action is literally a matter of life and death. Maybe he will burden my heart with the things that burden his, and that I will live for his will and Joy again, fighting with all I have to step out of my comfort zone and walk by faith where I have never dared to before. Exhibiting to the world my faith and his spirit living in me

Maybe I will in becoming like him, more faithful more passionate in serving him,
but I guess only time will tell...

Hello Stranger.

Hello stranger, is that smile a disguise?

Or is that just fear and tears in your eyes?

I remember seeing you somewhere before?

Through a mirror, river or misty window?

Hello there stranger , have you seen me before?

I can't place your face drifter, please let me know?

That an inquiring look? is it worry or woe?

I find its reminding me of myself more and more.

Goodbye stranger, you know I don't really care,

For your danger and anger filled silent stare.

You echo, hollow reflection of days long gone.

We're not the same, save in name so stranger move on.

 Just an argument I had with my reflection a few days ago, over whether we had changed or not in the last few years. Turns out we haven't changed much, but there are more areas being surrendered and worked on simultaneously. In fact if I'm honest with myself the same things I've struggled with for years are being struggled with still. I guess it's a good sign that I haven't given up on them, but it is disheartening to see so little progress. The one thing that has changed is the intimacy between me and God and the people I love, though the situations may not change I find that the relationships that are their foundation have changed, and that makes a world of a difference. In many ways I'm not the same person I was three years ago, because the people around me have grown, changed or they've gone. And that changes everything. And I'm not just talking situations, emotional control and stability, my resolve has changed has grown, and in some ways regressed. :( What's worse despite having more experience and having walked with God for longer I find that I live in the same depth with him, and that though I am committed, I find myself more than ever wanting more, and finding less, not because he is any less but perhaps simply because my heart is not in the right place.): 

I guess in a way that's a positive thing, my desire for more of him, may lead to him fulfilling the desires of my heart right? A closer walk, sanctification, the finer things maybe... :) (Psalm 37:4)

It's frustrating when you look back and seem the same, but remember only God can see your heart, not even you can, and in the end as long as your with him, his promise remains. He WILL bring to completion the work he began in you simply because that's who he is, and thank God who he is doesn't depend on how, or who we are. (Philippians 1:6) 


And that promise gives even the most stubbornly jaded heart (like mine) hope.

One day at a time...

In this messed up existence, you exhibited love.
Demonstrated persistence, faith in God above.
Unchangingly, you led the platoon, and taught us the way,
Then suddenly, far far too soon, he took you away.

To finally be by his side.
In his love to freely abide.
To praise him and adore,
And be with those who went before.

One day we will follow where you have gone.
Facing joy and sorrow sure and strong.
Missing your voice, and your heart on this climb.
Singing his praise, till we see your face, one day at a time.

It was my Grandma's (Nana's) birthday  years ago and in typical Burgher style everyone was listening to music, gossiping, drinking, eating and having a ball. The whole family was home, hyper and a few were a little high...

I was sitting in a corner and I don't remember what I was doing. But i do remember I was sitting in the sunlit hall like so many Sunday afternoons before, with my whole family around me and a bright ray of sunshine streaming through the window forcing me to shift in my seat to keep my legs in the shade. (It's amazing what you remember...) The radio was tuned to the Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation (God only knows why), and as it was a Sunday they were playing hymns. I remember suddenly one of my uncles broke into song as the songs changed"One day at a time sweet Jesus... That's all i'm asking from you." For a moment I smiled at the strange twist, but i noticed that Nana seemed a little strange, and she got up from "Her chair." and walked to her room. So I left my brother who was leaning on me bored, and went to see what was wrong. I walked into her room and found Nana crying, seated on her bed facing the wall so no one would see. Few things in my life have ever shocked me or shaken me like seeing her cry. Through years of being the matriarch of a hyperactive, impulsive, unstably problematic family, this was the first time I had ever seen Nana cry...

I ran over to her and sat beside her on her bed and asked her what was wrong, and she said it was nothing. But eventually she told me, "it's just the song Nilo," I looked at her confused (Obviously.) and she explained that every morning before My grandpa (Papa) passed away after practicing his scales, he would sing this hymn at the top of his lungs. she then put her arms around me and wept into my shoulder saying, "I miss him so much Nilo," I held her close and tried to comfort her. Finally she calmed down, she looked me in the eyes and ran her hands through my hair and said, you remind me so much of him. I wish you could have known him, and then my ma came in and my uncle and the moment passed, but inside me she had awoken so many questions. She had spent the better part of her life apart from my Papa who died long before any of us was born. Decades later that love the string between their hearts that tied them together was just as strong, even though they were long separated by life and time.

Despite the questions she raised in my heart that day, questions like: Can I ever love someone like that? How would I handle the same situation? Can I ever inspire that kind of love in another human being? She answered the two biggest questions in my life.

Does love really exist? And if it does, what is it like?

She taught me that not only does love exist but it also defies logic, time, and death.
She showed me just how patient and faithful love is.
And she made me want to find it more than anything in the world.

Two years ago Nana passed on from this world.
She went to be with the man she loves and to meet the Savior she served faithfully all her life.

One day I too will go to my heavenly father, at that sweet moment of reunion when I see her again, I hope I can turn to her and say, "I missed you and I found that love you showed me, here she is. :) I served him with all my heart, and didn't let my flaws keep me from giving my all to him and putting my best into everything I did, so here i am No regrets and in case you were wondering, no I never forgot you." That would be the beginning of a beautiful ending.

And I will rejoice and praise God for all eternity for giving me such a wonderful lesson in what love is, through a heart that truly knew love.

Random Rendevous

A chance meeting, glances greetings.
Quick re-cap and mingled words.
Of mishaps, mangled rumors heard.

Fast communication, past information.
Encouragement, glad sighs.
A moment, then sad goodbyes.

Is it randomness, or a tandem purpose.
Just crossing paths, or God networking hearts.
That in retrospect, just seemingly too perfect.
Just too suspect, enough to make us reflect.

And see him reaching his hand, moving us back to his plan.
In ways we then can't comprehend, he makes amends through our own friends.

It all started as most of these stories do,
With an Epic Fail.
A realization that I was in deep trouble and had created a catastrophic back log at work which would soon overflow and erupt causing serious damage.
I realized it was all my fault and that's when the depression set in and pride started coming up with ways to pass the buck.
So during my lunch break I left office and walked very slowly, thoughtfully to the nearest shopping mall to spend Some time alone with God and not being noticed, and try to sort out a solution.

And nothing...

I asked him how on earth do I get through this and finally just said please do something I'm leaving it in your hands... and proceeded to my favorite pass-time, window shopping. :)

Going past I ran into a friend of mine from church out to get lunch on her lunch break who asked me how i was and how come she doesn't see me in church as often. Next I ran into another friend of mine from college who is a part of my bible study group. and he asked me why I haven't been coming for cell group to which i proceeded to make an excuse. Anyway after these random rendezvous while walking past the food court, I proceeded to worry until finally it dawned on me that maybe this was God's answer, that maybe he was telling me church and cell were another foundational thing I had taken for granted. Thinking back on that now I remember not being too hyped. But rather in my casual jaded way of thinking passing it along as just a coincidence but ending it saying "in-case this is you talking, okay I'll make more effort to go for cell and church."
And then I ran into my co worker on the way out and he asked me what was up.
Normally I would have kept it to myself.
But I told him, and he simply told me, don't worry, we'll sort it out next week.
and then we just chatted.
Looking back I am awed at the simplicity and complexity of his plan, and how he uses each of us to minister to each of us. And how he always delves into the heart of the matter before solving the problem.
We serve an epic God.


Your thoughts far surpass my own.
I'm lost, starblasted, mind blown.
When you reach in, show your renown
My pride sinks and my world' upside down.
But in that moment of chaos.
The true elegance is lost.
In retrospect alone i see.
The intellect of what you plan for me.
And i'm slack jawed in awe once again.
All i can say is no way! I'm amazed again! Amen.

Dirty Feet.

Leaving nets, boats and fish.

Down a cruel and narrow street.

Tying all their hopes to his.

They followed him on naked feet.

Where the world feared to tread.

When his promise seemed complete.

Over sin and scorpions head.

They marched on calloused feet.

When the world that loved denied.

When the dark sought his defeat.

He asked will you too leave my side?

And they stood fast on weary feet.

But on the night the kiss betrayed.

To make the fathers will complete.

They all like sheep afraid.

Turned and ran on trembling feet.

Thus the whip and heart ache tore.

Pharisees spat and Romans beat.

To Calvary the cross he bore.

On whipped back and stone bruised feet.

Now where he lay down his cross.

That he be lifted for sins defeat.

We are called to bear the cost.

To follow and dirty our feet.

Over mountains, deserts, seas.

That his love would be complete.

Will we take him to those whose needs

Are strengthened hands and weary feet.

That they may see a light in the dark.
That we would make his joy complete.
And find a true disciples mark.
Is calloused hands and dirty feet.

Just a thought I had... what is the mark of a true disciple?
When he called the first of the twelve.
He asked them simply to follow him, and that HE not US will make them (Experienced fishermen) Fishers of men.
So what was the defining quality? what was the mark of a true disciple?
The mark was dirty feet.
Feet that would follow him everywhere.
Into traps at Gethsemane.
Over the seas of Galilee.
Over serpents and scorpions.(Luke 10:19)
Even to their own personal Calvaries.
The mark of a disciple is following him wherever he leads, no matter how hard or dirty.
Therefore the mark of a disciple is dirty feet.

If it was a case of literally dirty feet I think this wouldn't be a problem for me.
But because it means following and obeying him even when it's hard it ain't that easy. I love him, but honestly, who likes getting their feet dirty?
There are people I don't wanna talk to, times when I'm tired and hurting and I don't want to go and be encouraged or encourage someone else. There are things in my life I need to turn around and take notice of and carry to the cross. It's not easy to get your feet dirty, and if your stepping into the field for the harvest you have to. It's when your on the edge of the field and put your hand to the plow for the first time that it is the hardest to not look back, but rather to dig your feet in, take that first gooey sinking step into the mud and start working. But I think it will always be a struggle to not look back, to not become jaded and want to wash yourself of all of this. I'm saying this because now I am in a place where I have looked back and wondered a great deal.(Luke 9:62)
It's been a struggle, but in the end when your before him leaving everything in this world behind maybe the only thing we can offer him is this:

A mirror heart that reflects his glory.
Calloused hands that caress his scars.
And dirty feet that tell the story,
Of following the savior in life's dark hours.

The question is are we willing to get our feet dirty? Are we willing to listen to those tiny human voices that he uses to minister to our spirits, and the still small one in our hearts that urges us to hold our breath and jump in? Or are we too distracted walking our own paths to listen and obey his call of "follow me".
In my life I guess only time will tell.
Still I thank God that he personally came and got his feet dirty, bloodied and bruised so that I could follow him, and that he has provided me with friends and fellow workers, brothers and sisters with dirty feet who I can walk with and look up to.

For that reason I dedicate this to YPO who helped me see the significance of dirty feet, Obi wan who helped me take my first baby steps into the field. And Roven without whom I may never have found out about the field or the landlord in the first place. And all my brothers and sisters in him who aren't afraid to say "My feet are dirty... Isn't that awesome?"

Canvas Of Scars

This body of mine is a canvass of scars,
Reminders of failures from leaping for stars.
Life's medals, souvenirs from battles, defeat.
Lessons learned, respect earned, defying retreat.

This heart's still alive, despite being a scourged canker.
Proof what you survive, ignites, forges you stronger.
The pain's faded, aches mended, and breaks are glued back together,
But i'm jaded, cautious and defended, flawed forever.

Stronger from the experience.
Yet weaker in my decadence.
Marred from the start, a storm scarred work of art.
But these marks we regret or delight and accept.
Will be darkened, forgotten in the light of death.

Flamingo rain.

The dark ravens of the night blanket the midnight sky.
The occasional glimpse of the starlight finch flutter far up high.
The silver moon egrets fly a formation of cicles on their way.
Beyond the great horizon to make way for the flocks of day.

They rise in close formation blazing eyes mirrored on the sea.
Pursuing silver egrets and ravens they fly forward fast and free.
Gold orioles in round formation through the seas flamingo fray.
Over nimbus storks and then blue finches they fly on through the day.

Golden hues like yellow fields, then moving blues of living lace
They fly over the heavens till they become heaven's face.
Then charge through flocks of pink flamingo that rise up from the sea.
They fly beyond the horizon and beyond what mere bipeds see.

The black owl hoots and soars, The ravens flood the sky.
The moon egrets rise like a roar,starlight finch soar up high
To begin the cycle once again ,their great migration through the sky.
Constellations cloud formations, they become the skyline going by.

I have always marveled at the beauty of the sky and it never fails to amaze me that something so inanimate could be so alive. I wondered for just a moment how it could be as beautiful as it is, constantly changing and moving, and I wondered for a moment... Maybe it is alive. maybe it's millions of birds in a synchronized flight forming all those clouds, and constellations and brush strokes of light that form the ever changing tapestry we call the sky. I know that's just my fancy, but I know that is how I'll explain it to my daughters and sons one day.

Or at least that is how I hope to.

Existence In Verse

The first movement is light and plays on the ears,
Like a bird's maiden flight it falls and then clears.
Then chords bright and warm like the first rays of dawn.,
Like the moon on a stormy night a new life is born.

The first memories are hazy at best,
A few smiles, a few trees, the first rain, the first test.
Then the first heart ache, the first night faced alone.
The first thoughts that you fought as your heart turned to stone.

Years in verses.
Days and hours roll on.
Never knowing when the dirges will ring out loud and strong.
At a quarter life crisis.
And the chorus ain't long.
Soon these faded memories, and life will be gone.

The years come on fast, and your hair's shaded grey.
Suddenly you have a past, and you live for the day.
Climbing the corporate ladder, another kid on the way.
No time to look back when there are bills to be paid.

Years in verses.
Days and hours roll on.
Never knowing when the dirges will ring out long and strong.
The second chorus is over,
It's just not that long.
You can't seem to remember is life already gone?

Slow bone chilling minors falling like rain.
Like crude boats of paper heading for the drain.
We're caught in life's cycle dying from our birth.
And then we're recycled and return to the earth.

Warm earthy blends of majors so grand.
When everything ends and before him we stand.
The conductor and composer with whom we belong.
Can we say I lived it loud and proud like a song?

Years in verses.
Lifetimes roll on.
Like the grass of the fields we bloom bright, sing out strong.
Soon the song fades with winter,
Spring doesn't last long.
Enjoy life's every season for soon life will be gone.

Dedicated to Caleb who helped me end this and Niruban who started me thinking about it all.

HOPE

Hope is like a bar of soap you put on everything you need.
Over fading stars, fraying strings and ropes, wrinkled skin and plans.
Polished beautiful, bright to the touch it whips life nice and neat.
Except for fools who hold too tight, too much, it slips from their hands.

Sometimes it's best not to hope but simply surrender what you want to hold but can't control to a future that can't be held, controlled or be made sure. Simply because there is nothing you can do about it, and simply boldly proclaim "Into your hands I commit my spirit".

When it was all done and there was nothing more Jesus could do as a human being he left God to complete the master plan and he literally died. I guess sometimes God wants us to do the same, And just let our desires die. That maybe in time he will fulfill them as he has planned, and as he sees fit, not as we have set our minds. Only to watch them worn out, or shoot out of our hands from holding them too tight, using them too much, or just grabbing the wrong bar of 'soap'.

In that light I suppose the hardest thing to sacrifice to God is our hopes. Simply because hope is all some of us have, but to have any hope at all we need to hope in him first. After all we place the hope of eternity in Him and after placing 'That' hope in him, I suppose we should be able to find the boldness to put every other hope we have in him (2Cor3:12) who holds our futures in his hands. (1Cor15:19) We have more to hope for in Christ than simply our resurrection simply because no eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no heart can conceive what God has in store for us. (1Cor 2:9) But he WILL reveal it to us through his spirit. And i suppose once our motives are purified by our love and obedience to him, he will satisfy those deep desires in our hearts, and restore our souls. (Psalm 37:4)

Practically though for me especially this has been a challenge. I find that I like my hopes and my dreams, and I love how they get me through those hopeless situations. When I think of my hopes for the future, It's hard to remember in those moments when that hope fits like a missing puzzle piece in my heart that Christ is what Christ offers. Simply everything... and that he has a plan and future for me, even a future full of hope...(Jer29:11) But I cling to the gift of hope and not to the giver who is Christ, and often I find that I hold too tight and I either jump the gun or what I hope for slips from my hands.

And so the battle between hope and surrender rages on. Yet I find hope in this... though Love is the greatest, Hope and Faith still made the cut. (1Cor13:13)

In a Heartbeat.

The world was simpler when I first met you.

Denying simple complications was all I knew.

Life's plans unfurled, they guaranteed my defeat.

You flipped my world upside down in a heart beat.

Now I sing that my world's been re-arranged.

I'm amazed, awed by everything you've changed.

My world, my heart, my soul! Oh what a threepeate.

And I watched you do it all in just a heartbeat.

Now I'm a mess mesmerized by how your working.

Captivated by your love and all your doing,

So when the oceans rise and my feet are stuck in concrete.

I trust that you will turn the tide in just a heartbeat.

I heard you so long I thought I'd figured you out.

I hear a new verse from your song that erased all my doubt.

It's like I'm listening for the first time, and it's just so sweet.

To be humbled and held closer in a heartbeat.

And though people fail me and circumstances change.
Though I stumble myself, it seems so strange.
That you never test me beyond what I can beat,
And you change my circumstances in a heartbeat.

So I can't wait for that wonderful day.

When I meet my final fate and fade away.

And at last I am yours, at last I'm complete.

When you hold me close and I finally hear your heartbeat.

Today God reminded me that He is epic.
That He is the only one who is Awepic.
And that He is worthy of who He is, because only He can be who He is.
My passion for Him, my offerings to Him, my devotion to Him, and what is His,
has been stale as of late. It had become a chore.
A habit, nothing more.
But today he revealed himself to me in a simple act.
He reminded me that it is he in fact, who can turn bitter to sweet, bring victory from defeat.
And do it all in just a heartbeat.
He started by speaking to me in the morning about being refreshed in the spirit.
And I had my doubts about what it meant or how he would do it.
Then he just DID IT. Like that he out poured his spirit into my veins and now every heartbeat bears strength peace, and meaning.
Meaning that I lacked for so so long...
I worry if it's just a feeling that will fade.
Rather than the knowledge of him working in my head.
Just the pessimist in me I guess, (Or the realist)
If nothing else he reminded me that I am dearly dearly loved.
By my savior up above.

Phillipians 4:7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension will guard your hearts and your
minds in Christ Jesus.
That's all that I can find to explain it. :)

If he amazes me, for him it's nothing.
But if he's reaching for you, he's up to something.
Don't blink or you will miss a treat.
Cause he'll steal away your heart in just a heartbeat.

Neon Lullabies.

Neon dissonance.
Simple elegance.
Light captured in glass.
Humming tunes from ages past.

Your every curve and line.
Makes your silhouette shine.
Dimmed by the grime.
Of your filthy street sign.

Sing your lullaby as I bask in your glow,
Till your light and hum is all I know.
Rising through the night sweet and slow.
Blurred by whiskey, sleep and smoke.

Am I the only one who noticed,
The siren the dawn silenced?
Turned off as the night fades to dawns seams.
As I sleep off the hangover and in my hazy dreams.

Dream of the bar, your voice, and the night.
And sit staring at the star hiding from the light.



To be honest I really don't know where this poem came from.
But I do know what inspired me.
It was a scene from this old movie I watched with my aunt as a kid.
It must have been a Sunday morning before church.
It was raining outside i think and we were watching random movies on the TV.
She was running her fingers through my hair and reading,
And I was glued to the TV.
There was an old technicolor movie on. I wish i could remember the name.
There was a singer bathed in red light crying while she was singing this old jazz number.
In the back of a bar.
I remember thinking back then that it was so sad for someone that beautiful to be crying.

Blindsided by the memory it occurred to me that my memory of her was like a neon light on a street sign.
Beautiful, singing a song no one really listens to in a place so dingy that no one really appreciates the talent, the emotion or the beauty, turned off at dawn so no one notices, and the real irony of it being that she was probably doing it to escape the life she was living then. (and yes I know it was just a movie.)

But the truly sad thing that struck me was that, maybe i'm the only one who noticed her. That thought kinda shook me. As the reality that day light brings to all night owls and they sleep off the night's escapades or move back to reality, they'd simply forget the ageing starlet who entertained them, their memory further dimmed by the whiskey and cigarette smoke. But I can't forget her. I remember the bar the voice and the night. And i remember the sadness that gripped my breath when I sat staring at the star hiding from the sunlight. It seemed hopeless to me, that someone so beautiful, talented and gifted would be lost and unappreciated in a world like that.

It shook me to think that a life was being squandered, as many of us squander our own lives...

Reflections.

I wake up in the morning and get blind sided,

By the challenge the day holds and with fear i'm blinded.

How did I battle the fear in my head?

Where did I find the mettle to get out of bed?

When I look through my work and feel my heart go pale.

Realizing I've screwed up and soon I will fail.

Shake off the inevitable and just stay strong,

Accept losing a battle and carry the war on.

When I look back at life and all I have done.

Can I go into the night without my conscience undone?

Close my eyes on this world, take my last breath,

And find no regrets only bliss, in the warm grip of death.

1Corinthians 13:12 

One day when all these things cease.

I will reflect and know fully,

And in being fully known find peace.