Not sure what that is, I used to know It was where I grew up
But as I grew old I think it became more of where I wanted to be And now that could be anywhere The world is a big place ready to explore
So where is home?
In your heart I think In your soul maybe And where you find your tribe perhaps That’s home I think
And I think We all have a home We just have to find it And our heart will know where it is Way before our mind does
Where would I start? Such a strong sense Belonging means a lot
That’s why young men join gangs, to belong Women join prayer groups, to belong It adds to your identity, Or does it take away? I’m not sure
Do you merge with those around you? Or do you somehow strengthen what’s within you
People in numbers A tribe if you will Are you sacrificing individuality Or are you strengthening your personality
Complex thing to understand Belonging
Rediscovery is a beautiful thing, Seeing something once does not mean you really saw, You can see something a hundred times, But if you look closer each time, If you have a different perspective each time, If you are at a different place in your life each time, If you are in a different mood even, I bet you will see something new or deeper or more profound, We don’t always need new experiences, We need to rediscover the seemingly mundane ones we live day to day And that is often what holds the beauty of life The mundane can be the extraordinary If our eyes are opened.
It looked out of place I thought for a moment, And I wondered why was it there? Then thought how it actually makes perfect sense, Now that I see it so clear. The ocean makes music, Sweet to the ear, It sways and it dances with the wind and the sand, It rolls and it twists to make sounds and rhythms, And plays with the rocks and turtles and fishes. If I could define the sound of the ocean to someone who had never been, If I could define the music it makes with no other way to compare, A baby grande might be my choice that could capture that sound perhaps, Yes, buried in sand, and wrapped in the sun, A baby grande might be the one, The instrument that is caressed with the hand, Of the creator that loves it, And talks throughout it, in a voice only he can give it. He shares the message he wants to convey, He soothes the soul of a weary day, The sound in itself is only a sound, It takes the creators love of the art to bring it to life. To bring a tear to the eye or a lump to the throat. To bind the wound of the broken heart, to sort out the tornado of thoughts. And make that sound an instrument of use, to soothe the soul of the one who hears it. The ocean wave and the baby grande, Both whisper a song and capture the slam, Both make music sweet to the ear, Both can bring life to the one who hears.
What giant stands in my midst, Grande in stature I feel so small. Yet, I feel peace when I feel small, How can that be? It’s like it covers my insignificance with its power and then, I also feel power Shouldn’t I feel nervous, unimportant, invisible? No, somehow, the majesty and grandness of something so unmovable, Gives a sense of security and peace, and rest for my soul. The mountain, ancient, and powerful, Full of strength and wonder, Unmovable and beautiful it stands. In the light of dawn, my peace stands also.
You must look up to me, Yet my feet are on the ground, You must pet me, Yet not all of me at once, You must call me over, I will come to you, You must feed me, I like it when you do.
I am gentle and quiet, Not a sound I do make, I can run like the wind I can bend like a snake
I can make children smile with a twist and a turn I can make adults laugh with my animal charm I love open fields I love tall greenery I hope you come visit where I live and run free Where am I?
A series of unfortunate events that lead to a positive outcome, sounds like, “all things work together for the good of those who Love Him.”
Even the unfortunate events in life, will come together for the good if we allow the process to run its course And unfold in life as it should
So here’s a little poem for you to tuck away inside your heart When a series of unfortunate events occur This is a good place for you to start, and make some sense of it all
Good and bad happen to us all, And no one knows what tomorrow brings It may be good now, and better next, progressively increasing and then you say, man, I must be on track in this game of life everything is going so well, no strife And then it hits, a ton of bricks, a slow slide down an uneven path, looks like you reach the bottom it seems Time to start that ascent one again
But wait there it is!
the answer I think,
maybe my ship just came in,
let’s throw my anchor to THAT shooting star and see how far it takes me.
I miss, and my anchor hits sand
Getting pulled away from that sure thing again.
Where do I go from here,
where does my help come from?
Left, right, up, down,
where is my escape,
my perfect outcome.
I suppose that is too much to expect
a perfect path, a perfect end.
But once again the process unfolds,
good and bad happens to us all,
and life’s journey must embrace both to be happy.
And when both the good and the bad are embraced as equal,
our strength will not fail, our purpose remains unmoved
and goodness will shine through,
and we will see all the good things life brings even in the bad things that come.
*The race is not to the swift
or the battle to the strong,
nor does food come to the wise
or wealth to the brilliant
or favor to the learned;
but time and chance happen to them all.
You see the steps don’t have the final say, They only exist to lead the way Step upon step is how you achieve The life that you want and the goals you perceive And each life is different for everyone here, Each step unique to see vision fulfilled There is no right or wrong step to take Just keep moving forward, keep you eye on the goal And life will unfold for you in the way that it should Don’t compare your progress or count your mistakes don’t give up, keep going, your success awaits
*Ecclesiastes 9:11
I never thought I could be washed white as snow. Snow is pretty white after all, and I feel pretty grey. This life has thrown its share of dust and mud in my face, And yet here I stand, polished up without spot or wrinkle, How can this be?
A bride you say, in this dustbowl of life,
The one lifted out of the miry clay
The one washed and cleansed from darkness, shame
from the muck and the more that clouded my soul
Yet as I beheld his beautiful name, his light, and his love I walked out of that shame
I called to him in my hurt and pain,
And he answered back with these simple words.
Follow me. So I did.
If I asked for a drink would you give it to me? How about food would you share it? A smile or a laugh is that something you give? Has that as much value as a tangible gift? How bout a hug for a weary soul Or some rest for the worn and torn of this world. Do you know what I need if I do not ask? It might look like one thing, yet I wear a mask, That thing, sometimes may be hidden from you Right in plain sight, yet not understood Closed mouths don’t get fed, unless they ask.
