Love in a kiddie meal

Sink your teeth into it,
Let the juices splash onto your tongue,
Let the bread melt in thine mouth,
Till the sweetness of the mayo,
And the sharpness of the chilli,
Do a ballet's dance.

The bread characteristically soft,
The lettuce deceivingly crunchy.
One plant processed and cooked,
Another harvested and raw.

The glory of the meal found in the meat,
Thinly cut pieces but big on taste.
All other ingredients, encompassing the main agenda,
Sweet and salty, hot yet cool.

My sandwich experience

Tongues of men, you fail me

She opened her mouth and out flowed words,
To a listening ear that she had longed for.
He didn't hear much. Heck, he can't even recall a full sentence.
But his ears heard. His brain processed.

She shut her mouth when her words ran out.
Sighs of the heart in languages unspeakable was all that was rumbling now.
Then he listened.
His heart listened, their souls communed.
An understanding soul, a listening heart:
all she ever needed.

Tongues of men, you fail me.

God dead in Garissa

"Our present state is a factor of our past actions,
Our present reality is a factor of our perception of the future"

Lelli Mandela

To effectively answer the question where was God during the death of the students in Garissa, one must not ask finite questions but must demand to understand infinite reality.
A reality simply put is a transcendence of perceptions based on facts to a perception based on unchanged truth. To accept that there is a truth that may defy present facts in time and may offer higher insight into what is real.

There has been an argument that the massacre happened either because God is not real or is altogether present but unable to save. I could take this time to argue out whether God is real but that is not why I have sacrificed my words today.
God was present and watching as it happened. Probably even shed a few tears for He has emotions too.  If I were Him, I would have cried over the unnecessary manner in which the young people had to die. Maybe mourn for the killers for they have not yet known my love and will spend eternity separated from it.

Time is a factor of eternity. Death just a transition into another state. Death is not such a big deal  as men see it. It is a big deal if it was final, if there was no eternal hope. If there was no heaven or hell. I think I may do well at this point to declare that I have a working soul so yes, it is a big deal as a man.

The Bible says do not mourn as those who have no hope. Hope speaks not of the present but of the future. That is what the gospel promises, an eternal hope. Something that helps us live our present lives rather than exist for like 80 years.

God may have altogether failed to save our comrades because of hope, not because he is incapable of interfering in human affairs. If he were to interfere in every death and stop all unreasonable manner of descending to the grave, then we would have nothing to look forward to after death. Maybe death was the most selfless way of giving man a glimpse into eternity.

He touched her

And she didn't know if his hands were cold,
Or if her body was hot.
All she knew is that she felt a change,
She felt the difference.

Warm body and cold hands,
or was it
Warm hands and a hot body,
Whose temperature was right?
Whose body temperature was wrong?

Did she fear him or
Did she fear her?

Instrumental waltz on the key of D

There are things only melodies can express,
Feelings too deep, inexplicable moments, desires unmatched, tearless pain.
Joy untold, fears, worry, anger,
Confusion.

Regrets, injustice, failures,
Hope, love, triumph,
Incongruity.

Give me my guitar, burn the dictionary,
Mute my tongue, arrest my voice.
Senseless words, foolish rhyme,
I no longer have use for words,
They don't dig deep enough.

Let my troubled heart speak,
Though it lacks a tongue, it shall talk.
Teach me not how to write, that's not what my fingers were made for.
Only teach me how to play,
For then all my words come to life,
Then my handwriting will be perfect.

Firmament of Conceit

Put asunder eternity and time.
Divide the waters and let them never touch.
Let the heavens and the earth never kiss,
For as long as time exists, so should their estrangement last.

Ma lady, make pious prayers,
Pray not in anger but weep if you may,
Hold your heart,  let not your tongue curse your God.
Shackle your bitterness, unchain it if only to forever lose it.

Voices of scrolls eternal shouting out from the chambers of immortality,
Yet to a man whose liberty has been taken by the death of his son,
The shouts only come out as faint whispers carried by the winds of time.
Whispers of truth,  drowned by the storm of sin.

Let us pray to our gods, gods fashioned by the hands of politics.
Ignore the whispers, the voice of the people is the voice of God,
And right now, the voices are screaming in the midst of the storm.
Voices of despair,  voices of benightedness.

And that is why the earth and the heavens will never kiss,
For the folly of Man so denies him the wisdom of eternity.
Fruitlessness, the maturity of the seed of Pride,
Will forever remain his bountiful harvest, in a vineyard of leafy fig trees.

Resurrection

Don't bother checking, I am sure as an atheist is of his disbelief.
Don't touch it, there is no point in being disappointed when it won't rise again.
I didn't check but I know, the heart no longer beats.
The dying horse is already dead.
No need to confirm my disappointment.

But...

Maybe you could check, I am not sure but I have the hope of a Christian.
Touch it, shake it, shout. It might just respond to your gallantry.
I didn't check, because I fear for hope's last ounce to be crushed.
There still may be life, confirm it.
Crush my fear one last time.