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| Dear Lord, You know I don’t really know how to trust in You.
So teach me to not try to control everything
But use what little faith I have, take it
That I may surrender my life, my all.
You said “I have healed you, now go in peace!”
Lord You know I find it so hard to accept that
Because inside even though I don’t realize
My conscience is like a worm,
Slowly eating into my being,
Telling me I don’t deserve Your forgiveness.
So Dear Lord please break those chains that hold me down
Let them bind no longer
That I should go in peace
Dependent on You for the rest of my life and not on my strength.
Amen.
*on my visit to my family doctor, he actually shared quite a bit with me and one thing that struck me was the woman who knew that as long as she touched Jesus' robe, she'd be healed. It's not what I have, it's Who I have in me. | | |
| Another day has just gone by
It feels the same
I feel small and wonder what I ever did wrong
Everywhere I look around
I see eyes
They seem to judge me as they walk along
Am I different?
But then You come remind me that though I'm weak, You are strong
You see me pass my imperfections
Knowing that I'm not able like the others
Still You say that I belong to You
Lord I wonder what You see in me
But I've moved on -
Cause I know I'm not worth it, but You still love me.
(Experience from the first day of school! I was actually inspired by Dot's Thank You) | | |
| A beat. A beat.
Your heart pumps, you dread the feeling that's coming next;
One foot on the line, the other behind.
You see his hand raised,
You follow suit.
It's now or never.
Catch your breath while you can,
It's a long way there.
Bam! Off you burst,
You start strong. 17.
17 more to go.
But wait - you're gasping for air.
It starts to burn, you start to crash.
Your eyes and mind a blur - will you make it?
The rush of lactic; they're all numbed with agony, barely moving.
With strain, you push. 30 more, you can do it!
Finally, you cross the line that was waiting for you on the other side all along.
36, not 34; here we go again.
-
Heh. Inspired by Mr. Irwan who killed us by making us run 10x200.
My first 100m always happens to be 17, but the next ends up really slow :P
The lactic burn sucks so bad, and you try so hard to breathe.
The feeling of knowing you have to start again just takes away so much from your rest time :P | | |
| I placed my coffee on the window ledge and began to inhale what nature had to offer in the morning. I had one hour to kill. I briefly pondered over the meaning of life: could Plato be right? Was I blind and living in a cave?
Right then a bird flew pass and caught my eye: I wondered what it’d be like to be able to fly. Would I see things in a different light? Maybe I’d make the Greatest Superhero to ever save the day. Then I noticed two squirrels in the park across the road, scratching each others’ backs. It must be great falling in love. I avoided thinking of it further: I have never had a girlfriend.
What would a window maker make for his girlfriend? Perhaps a glass heart ever so fragile – like mine. Thinking of the window, I wonder what people see through my eyes. Just then the sun peered through my window, illuminating the room. It had enlightened me – one hour had flown by, I was going to be late for work.
| | |
| There she kneels in a desolate corner amidst the thunderstorm; all alone, seeking shelter and affection. Fists clenched, one stubbornly refusing to let go of her shawl – now which has become her only source of warmth and security; the other so close to her chest, she feels the beating of her heart. Forlorn, she cannot but wait for a hero to come along. She weeps as she kneels – every tear a drop of red, a perfect juxtaposition to her skin. She’d rather be homeless than return to the drunken man she once called ‘father’.
(Inspiration from Thomas Hardy. Not rape though, this is child abuse!) | | |
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