O wandering heart of mine, I trace your tracks up this hill but I do not see where you go. Day and night you wander, paying little heed to burnout. Across all entrances and exits you dash simultaneously, drifting unreservedly. I trace your movements but only find traces of questions you leave behind. I cannot understand your tracks, they are unimaginably complex. I cannot number your steers, they are infinite in number. You disperse in prideful splendour to flounder in collective shatter. Your pride-filled ways mislead, moving but going nowhere precise. Your words are multi-minded, yet you push to enforce your will. You wail with outbursts of desire, yet, en route your solo dash, you desire nothing ultimately meaningful.
Eternal New Day
To turn my hurt to life.
I sit and contemplate.
Could it be, a reason for every hurt,
every mixed conflict,
moment of pain,
sorrow and disillusionment,
is eternal glory?
Eternal glory that outweighs hurt
and transforms to life?
I pause and contemplate.
I try to fix my eyes on what is eternal
be a banner over me
and take me to the place you want me.
Like a leaf that falls and dillydallies mid-air,
I too dream to land on gentle waters,
that purify the soul
and unravel a renewed horizon
of hope unto a new day.
The ‘what if’ factor
Powerful moment in history, is now. The 'what if' factor is the lifesaver I wish to write on, in a humble attempt to express its power and influence in everyday affairs. Powerful moment in history, is now, as I step out to interact with those I attempt to avoid but cannot do without. What if, I was wrong to avoid them in the first place? I now contemplate as I am shown something too magnificent to express in words, by those I attempted to avoid. By Emmanuel Johnson
The nature of days
These days, I see things take a turn here and another there. The straight path which once was creates ever-forming interlinks I now try to make sense of. I am conflicted. My observation of its nature keeps me perplexed, as I see same and others hide beneath the same mask. In the final analysis, I realise a dedication to get to the root of this, and prevailing situations, which obstruct my search, as I continually seek meaning. By Emmanuel Johnson
The path of the just
Faithful and trustworthy saying, resounded in me, speeding past the tunnels of time to find me right where I am. Faithful and trustworthy saying, ingrained in me, with all majestic hope and expectation from the ones who love me dearly, with all their heart and might, that one day, maybe just maybe, it shall turn out to be my saving grace. How faithful, how trustworthy, is the path of the shining light, ever true, that shines brighter and brighter, unto the perfect day. Abide by it, my child. By Emmanuel Johnson
The blend is right, caught midway through emotions. Lay hold of the flash in all its beauty and radiance. Its textures so soothing, feeling so warming. A beauty to behold, a comforter in despair. And now, the rhythm is right, the passage is clear. All of God's children shall vibe in harmony. By Emmanuel Johnson
Letter to I Am
Father of the heavenly lights, I begin sincerely on a note of piety; expressing my gratitude for these situations and beings I find myself surrounded by everyday. I realise the soothing embrace of your grace upon my face everyday, and as I let your light soak in me, I acknowledge your tender loving-kindness on the inside and out. Purify my heart as I yonder on, these uncertain days, upholding the very hope you have planted in my soul. I ask that you abide with me, and grant me the grace to live as you have instructed. So help me, giver of all things good. Amen. By Emmanuel Johnson
States of isolation
Acquainted with you again; truly, you are no new companion because I have shared moments of reason, laughter and sadness with you for many, many years. But now, called into question by this new state, I ask myself more truthfully: can I recognise you any longer? You seem very different this time around. The state I find myself misleads; I work reasonably to find a way around it. But as I get to witness more states around, I realise ever-static banalities which shaped past encounters and meanings. Now I find that very interesting. By Emmanuel Johnson
States of fantasy
The surreal state; an alternate rendition of how things could be right now. Some I see, vastly different, others, fairly similar to the current state. Oh the day shall come when I shall grab that piece to behold, for every time I have sat to conceive of utopia. The new state I contemplate, amidst its grandeur, frightens me, as I attempt to bring it to being. Living my fair share of states humbly, brings to mind, continuously, that, despite my fear, this and this surely is what I genuinely desire. By Emmanuel Johnson
Inflicted with deep restlessness; I realise a desire for something eternal in being; to put in plain words. Words simply cannot: they fail to express. I try my very best, but I am unable to: I fail to communicate. But I know a knowing; very true and trustworthy; which never fails; who always whispers: there is that cosmic unity between us, which nothing, no one, can take away. No one can, for I have beheld true joy. I have beheld true joy. By Emmanuel Johnson