More to Life

                       

I open my eyes; chancing to glance what eternal means to this life

For every purpose must due its time...Surely something must exist beyond this line

Seeking the illness of joy

Happiness is the pleasure of life mis-thought in roots of desires; self to selfishness

Questing self completeness bears nothing but lies...

We feed and we fatten; a child is born; death never says hi.

Am I wrong to wonder? Existence has more to inspire than a predetermined breath span

Blistered by questions; my mental feet tire

Is God more real than Alice who never had a wand? I wonder!

.

Patience has its toll eating it's way to the core

If time had a price, waiting would have nothing to show

Maybe none has no hook to hold and life weathers into oblivion

A scoop for thought but a thought with another face

Nevertheless, blind hope I hope...

 Cause faith surely has no eyes

Light I hope to see.

A puzzle, in need I puzzle

My ears itch of his name as I constantly look at my palms

 "Is this the missing piece?"

This Jesus took the nails; hanging his life on a piece of plank for a man 2000 years yet to be born!

It burns! A desire seeking to be quenched by the Son, what irony.

Water spilt robs a man his riches; what do I have to lose for Christ I never had?

                >>Nebert D-ray Chipasha<<

My Titatic Tale

A stainless trice of space to sit down and revise

A once coded titanic tale; gotta crease guts to break the ice

Silence is what I ask you to detect as we walk straight down this path

Though the unexpected re-surface, nothing leaves the equation till we break down this math

Something now calls for a big rush so strut with me; we've now sprang creating a trail

But i thought I will sink after I hit the ice to tell my coded titanic tale

So gig with me...

Let me recount this tale of a once finished off life where success and victory are a far-fetched vital spark

Tale of that superlative work of Christ; a tale of a renewed life from the back lifted up to glory duck

Few bugs was my state

That "am dying slowly" became so easy even to pronounce like it was my mother tongue; bitter heart stung

My heart was fractured that just seeing my fractured pieces really contrived me to realize between the lines my need for a fixing till the alarm rang

So I awake

Awake to the joy of my first tiptoe towards a man who promised to nurse the broken

Awake to my first tiptoe towards a man who glorifies and brings to light the forgotten

So now take your tiptoes towards the divine God who believes in man even when he feels at loss

What a lusty joy it is to share this glorious and endless story which began right at the cross

>>Saint; The Water Walker<<