Recently, a friend and I were discussing people reactions in the midst of a pandemic and she said “this is quiet before the storm” which inspired me to write & remembered how the Bible forecasted “critical times hard to deal with will be here. For men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, haughty, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, disloyal, having no natural affection, not open to any agreement, slanderers, without self-control, fierce, without love of goodness,, betrayers, headstrong, puffed up with pride, lovers of pleasures rather than lovers of God.” - 2 Timothy 3:1-4
While “the scene of this world is changing” are we keeping track of the quiet before the storm” or we caught up in humans nature?
She was leaving I was entering Our eyes crossed She blushed My heart beats rushed. Dunno why, I said hi She was shy So didn't reply She was a beauty My heart a beast She was a cutie My emotions were on feast All of a sudden There was a surprise She said your smile is nice. Omg...something happened My pulse raised My heart tightened. She was perfect What a view I heard trumpets and violin too I asked her name She said Sophie I asked her out for a coffee Again to my surprise she shyly obliged I noticed the lower lip She slightly bite It was love at first sight. We had coffee and We had some cake She wore a smile Which seemed not fake All of a sudden Her phone rang She asked for my excuse And at a distance she talked There was something uneasy as she walked. She came back and said listen Sorry I have a boyfriend I forgot to mention Now he is calling And I have to go Thanks for the coffee I enjoyed your company though It was so sudden....she swiftly left I felt like robbed I felt like a victim of theft. With a nice grin I looked above It was one day happiness, a one day love It was not her fault but my mistake It was I who put my heart on stake It was I who suffered a one day heartbreak.
We bribe for a wisp of mirth with strangled notions about fantasy. The uncanny rituals of reality slip away between the gaps of our fingers. We hustle for a receipt of sanity, while regaining fractures manipulated by chaos. The weaved multitudes of retaining knit somewhere within the blocks of our skin. We hinder for a room of faith, disregarding tremors felt by the weight of the word. The ranging wavelengths of uplifting veil broken tissue encircling the thorns of our heart. We preach for a quest of validation when no trace of gratitude surround the havoc. The surreal turns of destiny carve faint dates of union that cast the burns on our wrist. We request for a glimpse of love, forbidding debris of tendered gestures breeding inside. The whispered solicitation of belonging conceal laments that render the mist of our breathe.
You are not your age. Nor the size of clothes you wear. You are not a weight. Or the colour of your hair. You are not your name. Or the dimples in your cheeks. You are all the books you read. And all the words you speak. You are your croaky morning voice. And the smiles you try to hide. You're the sweetness in your laughter. And every tear you've cried. You're the songs you sing so loudly. When you know you're all alone. You're the places that you've been to. And the one that you call home. You're the things that you believe in. And the people that you love. You are the photos in your bedroom. And the future you dream of. You're made of so much beauty. But it seems that you forgot. When you decided that you were defined. By all the things you're not. @mirakee