Disarmed By God’s Grace,
May hands be free to embrace
Love that heals us both

[Photo credit to http://www.oneequalworld.com%5D


Let go of the knife

Take a quick read from a wonderful writer!


What do you do when the person you love the most hurts you?

We have a tendency to magnify pain and exaggerate injury

Making an accidental graze feel like a stab in the back

I look you in the eyes and realized that I’m the one holding the knife

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Moments are like sand they say;


They pass you by, grainy as they go.

You often wish you can take them back

But they slip through your fingers,

Gone with the winds,

Cascading into pools of distant thoughts

Foggy with steams of emotions that

Remind you they were there.

But some do stick with you.

They collect in sandstorms of passion,

Quicksands of regret

And desolate lands of trauma, where nothing

Seems to grow.

You peer through glass walls and watch them drift by

Glossing over every grain and musing over what could’ve or should’ve been.

Eventually it runs out,

And you contemplate if you should let it stay there,

But sometimes,

You flip it over and watch it all over again.

Swan dive

I make a swan dive off the cliff

Ever plummeting

Winds trumpeting over my ears,

Clapping my eyelids,

Buffeting as gravity spurs me on.

I brace for impact,

But never seem to hit the water.


Seven is a number of completion;
And I get that.
Not that it is finished,
But simply the fact
That the summation of my desires have been found.
It’s exact.
The gem of who you are in contact with my needs.
Without hesitation I sold the treasure of my insecurities
And expectations,
Just to buy the plot to get to you.
A gem so precious;
Hardened by pressures beyond my imagination.
Miraculously compressed and condensed Carbon clusters
That radiate Christ’s love uniquely.
A gem blindingly beautiful, beyond anything I’ve beheld,
Eyes locked in at the heart’s behest.
I could hardly believe them, but they speak no lies;
They have seen none superior.
A gem so pristine and pure; perforated by the light of the sun;
Incandescent as you shine for His glory;
Crystalline as you open up to me,
And clear about the way you feel.
A gem that’s here to stay
Beyond flashy words and frivolous airs
that has been tested and found to be innately true.
A gem that I value
More than earthly powers and possessions,
Because they have all proven to be less than adequate.
A gem to call my own,
And in due time to claim for myself.
Seven times, this gem has beckoned to me.

Cistern; Part Two

Quite frankly, a vessel’s useless if it’s in pieces.
Honestly, it can’t hold a thing cause fluids pour out
It’s admittedly foolish to even try.
The artistry is lost; at best its host to memories
But the imagery of it all is pretty much ruined.
So imagine me
Trying to hold it all together like bags of groceries
Saving trips but bearing a burden I can’t really handle.
It’s silly.
Being jury to a crime I didn’t commit but finding myself guilty
Locking feelings away because fragments aren’t pretty
Or maybe I just loved the mess
Unfortunately I really just cannot say.
But I see what it has done to me.
Though it’s ugly, I begin the journey
To piece back together the broken parts of me.
Friends who’ve seen the beauty in me
And God the Master Potter and greatest attorney
Assist in shaping this broken piece of pottery
That’s nothing like it used to be,
But can be so much better.

Cistern; Part One

I never thought much of myself, just kept taking life as it goes
Poured it all out for my friends and sipped on dregs
But when I was thirsty, nobody ever offered me a drink
I never stopped to think
Hey, maybe I should save me some for later.
I blindly let my subconscious be dictator and attribute their demeanour
To mean
Maybe I don’t deserve to drink at all.
I bore holes in my flask just to eek a little bit more out
And when people poured compliments they’d seep through with
“They don’t mean that”s and “that’s not that special anyway”s.
For all the love I’ve poured out, I’ve never taken into account the value of the vessel.
Years later it’s a shallow mess.
Still functional, but it works. Always used to pouring,
Never to be filled.
So when I asked to fill a glass and she said no,
I shattered to splinters instead.
Without pouring, what else do I have?

[Photo credit to www.jointheunstoppables.com]

A Match in the Dark


A match is struck against the coarse side of the box
Three plumes alight like down on a wintry mountainside.

They dance gingerly round their frail wooden host,
Thrilling but scaring the dark they kept for company.

The boundary between light and dark tango silently with the rhythm,
All in tandem with an unheard song:

They dance, but they don’t know why.

Spiritual Photoshop

Hey everyone! I was planning to start this series a long time ago, and I would like to revisit it. It’s a great start to a great story, and I hope you’d enjoy it with me ^_^

The matters of the heart

Jaime knew she wasn’t perfect. She loved hanging (flirting) with the boys, because she felt that girls never really understood her. They hardly paid her any mind, to say the least. Guys, on the other hand, loved her. She knew just how to get her way with them; a little smile here and there, or even little ploys to “innocently accentuate her feminine features” as she and her best friend, Priya, would say. She was perhaps the only one Jaime could relate too, because she was “one of the guys” quite like herself. Daddy didn’t like the fact that she wasn’t a Christian, but hey, maybe Jaime’s love for God would minister to her one day and she too would come to love Him.


Jaime wasn’t your average church girl. She was THE church girl. She led the worship choir, held a position in the Youth leadership, and was…

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