One of my pastors from sometime back gave an illustration from which I’d like to draw a premise. As a disclaimer, I am no farmer, so if any farmer is about to read this, farmer discretion is advised.

He gave an illustration of how, after milking a cow, one would…

I could sit here all night
My curtains wide open
My lights off
Staring at the moon

Nothing out of the ordinary about it
It's the quietness
The stillness of the heavens
And I could imagine, the breeze
Gentle as a broken feather

The ever zealous traveller of the night

I think reading God’s Word is like a man that sits and before him is a field with budding trees

The field before him is yet to be appealing to his eyes, but he requires the patience to stay put as he peers intently into the trees and is engrossed…

Is the word we uttered when fear ambushed our hearts
When tomorrow seemed unknown
And today, a fight for hope

We stood in the agony of the present
Holding the uncertainty of tomorrow on one hand
And the written irreversible tablets of yesterday on the other

Our minds invaded…

I have sat on this fence long enough
To master the arcs on the hills
And the deeps in the valleys
To know where the rays of the sleeping sun fall

If I’d close my eyes
I’d feel the contours imprint on my eyelids
And the sun rays brighten the darkness behind…


The ground behind and beneath
Canvas to my tall shadow figure
The horizon before and above
Shutter in the hands of an expert photographer

The day is looming to an end
The wind has a scent
The scent of buried memories
Clinching loosely to the setting sun

Not sure whether to frown or to smile
For the journey till here
Has been more than a mile
Clinging to the familiar
Is it only for a while?

The past has a friend
His name is regret
The future has a friend
Her name is hope

Both are my friends
But my friends
Love bringing their friends
To my parties

But as the sun
Routinely beckons the night
I choose to divorce one
And marry the other

Till we meet again
My old familiar friend.

It’s okay to be broken
I believe God requires it
It’s okay to want to boil with frustration
It’s only human

As the psalmist would say
“For He knows our frame
He remembers that we are dust”

So allow the tempest to rage
Allow the hills of your mind to quake
Admit to yourself
when bitterness is the demon
you’ve allowed in your chambers

For in doing so
You are on the path
That leads to the end of you
And the beginning of His mighty working power

“For He knows the way that we take;
When He has tested us, we shall come forth as gold”

The sticks
the thorns
the bushes

The destination settled

Nothing could pierce this skin of wounds
not anymore

The thistles bare witness
The ants match to the crackling sounds
Of breaking branches and falling leaves
as we chart the thorny avenues

A journey we were not giving up on
To the peak and back
with this skin of wounds.

Adopted from

Draw your map
consider the approaching sunset
set the course and ride on

When the ground beneath
has grown tired of our steps
And our evening star grows deem
count the cost of the ticking clock

In the midst of existence
consciousness seems infinite
our time like a never ending tape
becomes an illusion

Them that were, are not
we are here, like a passing tide
consuming the shores for a time
imprint yourself therefore on the pebble

That the running child
enjoying the summer tide
may pick your piece
and feel your imprints

Far after your dove has settled on the heights
and your map lay ragged beside your exhausted supplies
fully exhausted your potential
no regrets for times past.

Hi, JK here.

It seems we've met.
Not once, not twice
But across a broad spectrum of experiences
Each like a thread and a needle
Sewing in a tapestry of sorts
Of which, as of yet
I cannot make out it's final form or shape.

I’m holding it my hands…

Jack Kinga

An overcomer in daily pursuit of Christ Jesus.

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