First it was the devil,
Who moved into our neighbourhood!
And the angels, sweet as they are,
Sang our woe,
Which for ages rang.

Until Christ, God's son, became flesh
And moved into the neighborhood too.
Not as an angel or a heavenly beast.
But as a babe, a child, a suckling!
The Son of God, now the Son of Man.

The angels, unfathoming, sang still,
A new song for mankind -
Of glory, of peace and joy!
A song that never fades
For God came, not only to dwell amongst us.
But also to dwell within us -
Closer than our foes could ever be!

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Non-myths

On some days, I want to be a Phoenix.
Not that I fancy being a bird,
(of course not, in these climes).
But its ability to close its eyes in death
Assured of a new life, a resurrection,
That, I do envy.

At other times, its the unicorn I admire.
Graceful as a horse with extra beauty and strength.
Not to mention, its elevating horns!
Oh speak to me of the Pegasus.
Its ability to traverse land and air with equal grace.
Strong horse's hooves for the land
And gigantic eagle's wings for the air.

Yet am I human - simple and frail.
But in Christ, so much more.
Not a mythical creature - true.
I'm a divinely sculpted masterpiece
With a hope of resurrection and elevation in Christ,
And I traverse both physical and spiritual realms simultaneously.
I do not wish for mythical things anymore,
In Christ, I am made complete!
In Christ, you can be too.

-

There was a man.
So sick, the master called they,
He did not show up.
He was hospitalized,
And for healing prayed they.

It wasn't granted.
He died and was in a tomb buried.
Oh how they had hoped on their way
To meet the dead-raising master
But to no avail.

Then, four days later,
As they, their grief recounted,
"There was a man" they said,
Their final words interjected with bitter tears,
And the dreadful thought of saying goodbye,

The master appeared,
After the long wait, He appeared.
Why? His condolences to offer,
His sympathy to express?
Or His absence to explain?

Too late they cried,
Nothing could be done,
Nothing will the pain suffice,
Nothing can the dead bring back.
Nothing, absolutely nothing could be done

Until it was done
And He that was dead,
Now lives again!
That, to the glory of God.

-

This day we labour,
Alongside our heroes past
O God, our help in ages past,
Suffer not our travails to fail!

May we bring forth this day,
Salvation within our walls, and praise at our gates!
May our officers be peace, and our exactors, righteousness!

Out of the rubble, let her rise.
Free to fly, let her soar!
Restored and replenished, let her multiply
And may the increase of her land be great!

For too long she laid in the dust,
Plundered in shame, her salvation tarried.
But lift thou up the light of they countenance
And let her oppressors come bowing.

Once deprived and denied,
Establish her an eternal excellency
That the nation once forsaken and hated,
Becomes a joy to many generations.

O God of creation,
Thou that plantest our nation
Establish thou us in righteousness
That thou mayest be glorified!

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The cost of the promise.

For me, it was first my father's house,
With their vain idols and barren spirit.
That wasn't so hard,
I needed a fresh start anyway.

A dreary journey, sheep, oxen and pigeons,
From the wealth of my flock,
I withheld none
In hope of a fulfillment of promise.

Then it was the young lad,
A fatherless child who alleviated
The depression of a childless man.
It seemed hard then, but I let go still.
As I considered Him faithful.

Now He requests also,
The one to whom I have bound my heart
In great love and affection.
The One I thought was the promise fulfilled.
He requests this also, and shall I withhold?
No, not when I consider Him faithful and true.

-

The Harvest

Till the rocks, said He.
The what? I ask.
The rocks!
What, to find? I ask again.
Whatever you find,
But till thou, and till deep.
So, the rocks I tilled.
Sometimes wearied and grumbling,
Yet tilled I,
For so, I heard Him say.

Deep enough? I can't say
But this I know,
That in today's harvest,
I come, not with a basketful
Of nuts and grains,
Or tubers, acorns and leafy greens.
(Save those for another year)
I can boast simply
Of a bunch of priceless pearls.

-

Alabaster woman;

Once, this jar was venom-full.

So, she gave it all, in a glorious exchange,

Now, it holds fragrant ointment,

And she would give no less,

To the One, who gave her all.

-

"Who touched me?"

(A story)

-

Cracks, so many? Mend them.


Not a few tears? Wipe 'em


That's okay. It's your story to tell


Of the many times you fell,


While your countless stripes you earned


As long as you rise up,


To the platform prepared for you!


And in doing so, lift others too.

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Happy Father's day

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