My will glory in preservation.
My mind will take heed of any good suggestions
That are wise, thoughtful, honest, and sensible.
My sufferings will be granted compensations,
A reward, which will be priceless and noble.
My hopes are high, my yearnings are strong
while I breathe in my earthly life,
Paved with many a trajectory,
sailed on many an uncharted ocean.
Dum Spiro Spera.
The mind is its own place,
And it is its own domain,
Where it can make a celestial palace
out of hellish dungeon,
and vice versa.
Or so it says, or so it believes.
But what about a void filled with
howling of a soul lost in darkness
not knowing where to find the light
to figure out whereabouts of the soul?
Alas, the mind is at a loss,
a loss that cannot even know
where the mind can be at ease,
that seems to be in labyrinth fraught
with pebbles on the ground and webs
in the sight that I must huddle thru
to reach the meaning of my life.
There my mind can be at rest at last.
A word doesn’t come easy
When it does not mean any,
I say it only
Comes easy to mean what I say
A Letter to God
In an envelope labeled:
I addressed God a letter.
In the envelope received:
RETURNED TO SENDER
God has moved somewhere.
Monday, March 28th, 2016