...in essence...

In essence my life makes sense,
Is it because I confess?
Is it because I digress from the wicked ways?
Is it because I relent to suppress the urge to indulge in a wicked world?
In Your presence my life is in essence,
the incense at the altar,
I need to offer a living sacrifice,
that will oppress my flesh,
To deny my flesh is to suppress,
To give myself is to confess,
that You are Lord.
Lord over my life,
giving my life true essence,
in Your presence,
Let it not be that I obsess,
of the intricate worldly things,
For they will NEVER make me whole.
But let me be sure to place myself in Your presence,
for my life to find and keep that vast essence.
My day of reckoning is known to You and You alone,
Yes, it is my duty to remain in Your presence,
and have a true servant's worth,
offer my service to You,
worship You in spirit and in truth,
For then and only then,
will my life have the true essence
in faith,
By Your grace.
...and in Your presence.

A Miraged Anticipation

Seemingly seeming that I seem not to feel,
Or see the mirage...
Is it true?
I have been walking for too long
way too long,
it seems...
With great anticipation to get somewhere
with that particular reason...
Then again,
Who is the reason?

Bless the Day

Its ambience surpasses all serenity,
It beats all existence to its co-existence,
For all nature to cater for,
Like a saint,
receives menace from his master;
The airy scent that succumbs to it,
It's defeated yet never gives up;
Always trying to find a true definition,
Searching for the essence it never knew;
When indulged in it,
it drowns,
Once bitten twice shy, they say;
For it,
It is always forgotten-
To bless the day,
To bless its heart.
Searching for serenity,
Searching for tranquility,
It sets its talons into its prey,
in too deep before it realizes...

Eternal Water

My insides are quenched,
Yet they are still thirsty,
I long for that last drop,
That never comes as hard as it rains,
Like a river flowing,
Into an ocean,
My insides are never satisfied.

Time and time again,
I am yearning,
For some kind of nourishment,
Nothing seems to work,
The more I try,
The more I dry.

Eternal water from a blessed source,
Who knows where it comes from?
Who knows where to find it?
Everlasting as it is,
It is never discovered,
Even if I am to sacrifice myself.

For as long as I search,
My insides will endeavor,
As little drops into it,
It will survive the torture,
And out of it someday,
Will I emerge a flower.

Ambience of a Dove

The serenity,
The sanity,
The peace of mind,
Succumb to the living of survivors,
Has it come to compassion?
Has it come to similarity?
Who defines one's right to live?
To give,
To lead,
To save,
To endeavor,
To be...?
The ambience of a dove has reigned over the years,
But the human mind is too small to comprehend,
Gives a senseless response for the unthinkable,
Having the culprits fall, pounce on innocent victims,
The ambience of a dove is threatened to destruction,
In a mere blink of an eye,
Who chose freely?
Who felt superior in the midst of the moment?
Who gave the "sanity" of vengeance?
The ambience of a dove is seen as futile,
It is given a specific mandate that only its ancestors can understand,
Do we care to love as we did?
Why does the difference come out now?
Sanity should be the first commandment,
Serenity,
Peace and love and unity,
For the ambience of a dove calls for it.
But only a few recognize its true meaning,
Only a few see the sense of succumbing to it...
The peaceful ambience of a dove.