There is a buddy in cinema
that gives a pass to other worlds 
which do not really exist.

They exist to bring to life things which do not exist. 
The feelings are the same but not the same;
Same but extended, intensified.
Everyday is laid bare on screen;
most times taunted, other times flaunted. 
The flaunting of the everyday,
coming to bear with life as we know it,
or maybe not.

I know a buddy
who situates the self,
and draws it nearer to the world. 
The world that it lives in.

By Emmanuel Johnson

Where are you?
I wish to get to you.
My friend from the days.
The days our paths were straight. 
Friend but not friends,
you but not you;
me but not me.
Sometimes I wonder,
I ought to care more?
Other times I ponder,
I have my life to live,
and so do you.
But the truth remains the truth, 
and a lie remains a lie,
and no matter what we do,
the day will speak for you and I.

By Emmanuel Johnson

In the haven of newness
I see, my source of hope.
This newness; it’s His; now mine.
My newness.
I am safe in this newness.
His newness; my newness.
Nothing matters in this newness. 
Everything is alright in this newness. 
I am sheltered; I am reborn.
I am overwhelmed.
I feel, but differently.
I live, I die, in this newness.

By Emmanuel Johnson

Here I am
on my walk through the everyday. 
Searching for you, but find you instead. 
Hovering over, pricking deeper.
I light my feet,
I am embraced by truth.
Now I see,
the blueprint for the days.
The days, your days; now my days. 
That thorn, in my flesh
now oil, for my head.
Now I see,
on my walk through the everyday,
I am not alone, I never was.

By Emmanuel Johnson

That time, we sailed 
across the breeze. 
That time, those times; 
I truly, was alive.
I remember, all the time; 
the days went well. 
Despite, most times,
the nature of those times.

Those times, I rewind; 
I truly, was alive.
In time, that time
in You, I found:
a piece, to fill the wells, 
which burn in me.
A piece; that peace
to keep me through all times.

All times, all times,
I remember, all the time: 
that time; that time 
indeed, was the right time. 
And now, this time,
I sit and revel under:
this time, all times
I truly, am alive.

By Emmanuel Johnson

Some day,
I shall learn of words that describe you: 
a painting of things within.
Things within.
Things within me;
which cannot be expressed.
Until that day;
one day; some day:
I feel your warm embrace,
as you, sit beside me;
loudly, whispering; silent,
words, which cannot be expressed.

By Emmanuel Johnson