watching, anticipating ,biding out time, its an active rest,waiting like a cat content to sleep most of the day yet with an eye that opened at a first rustling.
such can be our pleasant moments, if we`ll see it, often we don`t.
but life cant happen all at once. many things must live up in time and space for our next activity to be prepared and us to prepared for it.
so in between, we wait. as does our father, ever patient, waiting…. for the prodigal`s return, the completion of time or for us to notice he there.
that can come with age,a softening and a mellowness that’s good. not that there’s guarantee;
we can turn, with life’s hurts, hard turns and bumps to bitterness and despair. but we can overcome and when life ages well there`s a beauty that can come no other way than what the years build in.-
in patience, in-understanding and perspective.
these too are attributes of the father . theres more to him, to be sure; and to stop at these is to sell him short.
still, we know the Lord, for all hes also seen of pain is kind.
the earth was empty, a formless mass cloaked in darkness, Gen 1;2.
What day is day, night night and time is time:
Where nothing but to waste night, time and day:
With what to taste and power of choice to waste :
What to feel and create:
How to predict the future from today,
Irony of a man looking through what is in the mirror.
Seeing the truth in the lies
The pain hidden within the face
I kept everything inside:
In the head are zombies, awakened by the grand theft of mankind.
How many steps do we have to move to the top when its only one step to fall.
Therefore since brevity is the soul of wit,
and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes
I will be brief:
“Poetry is the voice that speaks out the silence within us”..
BY : YOGYENHAMA..
FROM FLAMES TO DUST
LOVERS TO FRIENDS WHY DO ALL GOOD THINGS COME TO AN END
I URGE YOU TO SPREAD YOUR WINGS AND PREPARE TO FLY..
FOR YOU HAVE BECOME A BUTTERFLY..
FLY ABANDONEDLY INTO THE SUN
IF YOU RETURN TO ME…
WE TRULY MEANT TO BE..(T.B.C)
is it just me;or do you sometimes get the feeling that your inside doesn’t match your outside.
like a person with an amputated leg,i can feel a missing piece itching to be scratched.
Am not sure where i lost it ;
could it be in school;where I learn t that the only thing i was good at was being bad.
Or could it be in drugs;where I discovered that bad things often felt good.
Or could it be at home;
in the confusion of being this two(2) part boy and one part man..
when I discovered my presence has an effect on others..
Maybe I lost it in college, accompanied by friends and hailed by enemies..
I keep wandering why people cant understand me.
am I a victim of change of things I didnt maintain..??(t.b.c)….