lifesong
Everyone needs compassion
Love that's never failing
Let mercy fall on me
Everyone needs forgiveness
The kindness of a Saviour
The hope of nations
Saviour, He can move the mountains
My God is mighty to save
He is mighty to save
Forever author of salvation
He rose and conquered the grave
Jesus conquered the grave
So take me as you find me
All my fears and failures
Fill my life again
I give my life to follow
Everything I believe in
Now I surrender
Shine your light in
Let the whole world see
We're singing, for the glory
Of the risen King
Jesus, Shine your light in
Let the whole world see
We're singing for the glory
Of the risen king
Sunday, September 03, 2006
-11:16 pm
It is night.
I lie in bed and watch the flickering shadows
Of still objects shrouded in darkness save
For the rays of pale moonlight, metallic
And magical- gentle beams illuminating
Dim, inanimate forms with silvery tendrils.
This is when dreamless sleep is desired
But sleepless dreams transpire to my dread
Instead, wistfully, fitfully longing for the
Comforting sea of oblivion, into which
Waves of cares and worries ebb, ebb away.
This is where facts melt into fantasies
Whims and fancies swirl in and out
Of focus, colours of the imagination
Dance fairy-like in and out of consciousness
I haplessly drift.
I see faces, blurred by the grainy lenses
of memory,
Of fatigue and of waning resistance to the
Insipid lure of the land of perpetual dreaming
Where stories of the mind unfold like
Sepia-tinged movies in play-back mode.
Grotesque forms sometimes dominate a
Backdrop of panic, fear and frantic attempts to escape
From some unknown predator fast, fast gaining
On me I run and run and run and run through a
Long, long harrowing maze of never-ending
Passages and sinister stairways, not finding
My way home nor even a sign which points me
In the right direction. So lost I am
Awake.
With a start I glance at the clock- its luminous,
Green numbers tell me it's 2.07 AM. Still dark,
The world sleeps snugly, so ignorant of my fitful struggle
And of the stuff dreams are made of- it is not all sugar, spice
And everything nice.
Warily, I close my eyes, too tired to fight the flow
And grudgingly let the darkness
Overcome me.
This time the mind's eye takes a more pleasant view
Of fantasy's landscape, where warm, bright shades paint
A radiant tapestry of the heart's unspoken desires.
Of random reflections remembered,
Children, painting, at a table covered with adorable drawings
Of colourful stick figures, some messy, but beyond that
I see us, sitting on chairs too small for our grown bodies, patiently
Guiding small hands which clumsily grasped paintbrushes,
Cooing words of encouragement, before
A quiet calm, coy lull and then- an surprising move
I will always remember, of touch that awakened such
Beautiful sensations, of reassuring warmth, joy,
Of a destiny made certain,
In more than just what our eyes said,
but what our hands too conveyed.
Yet, to know that it is but a mere dream,
I would rather be running for my life, from reality.
It is night.
Perhaps, just dreamless sleep will do.
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