Skip to main content

UNTIL IT'S FINE




Something mostly divine,
Sometimes, it's ours to define.
Unlike the plant called Vine,
Destiny seldom has pine.
And it is our duty to prune and refine.
From the feet till we see the spine.

It may be a good omen,
To which we shout Amen.
It might have a fault to mend or dirt to filter,
Which might make us think that God did falter.

But we can write our own destiny.
Yes, we always do.
Remember that road you used to the mill,
The particular person you talked to,
Has it not been your own will?

When you wanted to learn,
Even when in prayer you did yearn,
You took that training seriously,
And you passed out successfully,
That was your own destiny.

That was your pen on paper.
When you write, no one can alter.
I am the secretary of the God you don't know.
Now wait while I print yours out to show.
Written down by you as white as snow.

Comments

Post a Comment

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!

Popular posts from this blog

RFFS PRAYER

Anytime I'm called for duty... Wherever deployment takes me, Pervert from my path, any mutiny... But give me the strength to be; The rescuer, the protector and the fire fighter. Whenever I'm gone for stand by... Lord, grant me a listening watch.  All incursions, hazards and risks, May I with my crew identify... Where unavoidable, enable us to mitigate.. Be it in the terminal, tarmac or boarding gate.. Should there ever be an emergency, Wherever fire may rage.. Should there be any shout, No matter the skin or age.. Help me put the fire out, And my neighbor, help me save. And if by your will... Any blood may spill... Leading to any fatality, Protect my wife and kids, And preserve the rest of my crew.
Post a Comment
Read more

FALLEN ANGELS

Most often than not,  Heroes do fade with their names unsung. But the shadows of their past, And the candles we light all night, Can at least serve as lyrics, To compose for their departed souls, A new song for us to be consoled. Patriots they’re now called, As dirty politics has now stalled. For once at most, We all agree to a toast, In solemnity and not at the bar, That this life is by far, An expedition with a divine illusion. Yes indeed they were; Heroes as we now call them. Not because it sounds like an anthem, But for the national emblem, They did responsibly revere. Was it the natural order? Is it because someone failed to bother? Was it their time? Are the questions we continue to mime. But will the answer save us a dime, As a nation in her own prime? Let the eight angels fly high, As families make a thirst quenching sigh, And create for them a legacy in perpetuity. For if we seek another opportunity, And let these men go forgotten, There shall be no more fallen angles from...
Post a Comment
Read more

TRUSTED STRANGERS

You relax with comfort, Knowing how safe it is, To be on an airplane. You chill out in a ship, Comfortably sailing on the ocean, Although you can’t swim. You join the train, And feel its meandering bends, Thinking it’s safer than road. You join a vehicle to work, Comfortable at the back seat, Trusting that you’ll arrive early. In all these circumstances, Taking no chances, You trusted total strangers. And you were very sure of your safety. The pilot you don’t know, The captain of the ship neither, Nor the train and car driver. Yet you put your life in their hands. So why strive at life, While you know God Almighty. The giver and taker, The securer of your future. So relax, and trust God, Just be yourself, Yearn less and don’t stress. Be patient and submit yourself to HIM.
Post a Comment
Read more