That Old Rugged Cross

The old rugged cross It was hewn from an oak planted deep in death’s forest A tree once alive… the people said Home to birds and bent low by fruits Providing shade to weary sojourners Spreading its majestic limbs But it was cut down in its prime With roman axes and blades Night after night Spent in the carpenter’s shop Seeing souls pass by Feeling the human cry Finally called out to duty To be a cross of death To dish out punishment To the enemies of the throne At times it stood silent As criminals died Watching sorrowfully As the blood fell to the ground Days rolled by And souls were lost Then one day it saw The face of its creator Unworthy unworthy That was what it felt To carry the creator The one who created Darkness filled the deep blue sky As the mighty tree cried Watching its creator Die a mere man’s death The tree stood rugged Battered

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Originally posted on KINGDOM COME:
                                                                         I absolutely love romance! Oh, the sheer magic of it! I wonder about my love for it sometimes since it’s gotten me a lot of flak from the wife recently for allowing the madness of Lagos to dry up my creative juices. But there is no denying that it is so beautiful and heartwarming. Anytime I remember Sabrina being serenaded by the musical group hired by Jason before he proposed in “jumping the broom” a sweet incandescent fire lights up within my heart and gently spreads through every fiber of my being. I can watch that scene a gazillion times. What about great romantic stories woven around it like that of Cupid and Psyche, totally engrossing! I guess if I were an ancient Greek heathen, I would have bred swans in honor of Aphrodite, the mother of Eros (Cupid), the Greek god of romantic love and desire. All the fallout of amour is attributed…

Aural Assault

It happened one desultory October Evening… there were no drums mimicking the racing heart of a hart as it sped across the savannah in search of respite for its thirsting throat. It happened as we sat by the shore, the sights and sounds of nature swimming lustily in full view. It happened… Bass She asked me to strike the anvil of her mind with the sweetest words I could find. My thought rode the crest of the wind and forged a hammer, But my voice turned to schmaltz: a miasma of mesmerizing musings, Her ears ached, desirous for dainty delights that would tickle her cochlea, But I could neither spin a tale nor amuse her with my poetry. I yearned to speak to her in soft and supple tones, lush with love and flushed full with the musings of a lovesick poet But I feared that my words will fall short and tasteless void of substance, bereft of the syllables that would

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When Love Calls

When Love beckons to you follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth… But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and

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From God

To: You From: God Do you realize that the cold draft of callousness from the crevices of hell can not cause the Love of God that blossoms and blooms to wither? – Dami to Rhea (Church Notes 1.0) My child. Behold my counsel, hear my words. I see the council of chaos gathering, Surely I have heard their bickering, They long to hurt you. Surely I have heard their bickering, They long to hurt you. I see your pain. Do not fret for I am with you in the rain. I have heard your sobbing in the night. Your heart cry… It passes through the darkness, filters through the clouds, mingles with starlight, and finds its way to my heart on the path of a sunbeam. Do you not know that I am he who bore the bowels of the seas in my arms? Pouring them into the crevices and crannies of the earth. Do you not see the splendor of the

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