You say you love me,
But deceit, is all I perceive.
You vow never to desert me,
But already, I feel lonely.
You sing to me sweet love songs,
But in the middle, I rummage lies.
You send me motivating morning text messages,
But I see you as the barricade, standing in my way.
You may mean all you do and say,
But maybe I’m the ingrate, tired of us.
Sometimes, we are the problem…
MORNING PIECE
Don’t degrade yourself because of what you benefit from someone.
I HAD MY LIFE ALL PLANNED OUT.
BUT WHAT I FORGOT WAS THAT LIFE GOT ITS PLANS TOO.
Get this straight please! Stop looking down on what others do in the vineyard of God. Stop feeling superior. Every work is a work and it’s all being counted. No need for comparison at all.
Whatever task you have chosen or you have been called to perform in the household of God, do fervently. Don’t indulge yourself to speaking ill of other people’s tasks. There’s no big task or little task in the church of God.
I was in a gathering this morning, and someone mentioned a unit, referring to it as the unit for lazy people. That’s not how it should be. The funniest thing is that this particular unit is a unit which is always worked out during any service. So, I don’t understand where the individual got the idea from.
Respect every role played by people, just like you would want them to respect yours. Face your task squarely, and if you’re not satisfied with what you are doing, feel free to join other units. Nobody would stop you. Leave others to what they think they are capable of doing. It is not your business, and most especially, not your duty to judge. Stop being bossy.
You see is as “too little”,
You think you can live without it,
You call it “the evitable”,
Until you lose it,
Then you crack its worth.
The bird flies,
The butterfly flies,
The inspect flies.
But I love the butterfly the most.
The sun shines,
The star shines,
The moon shines.
But I love the star the most.
The wheel rolls,
The ball rolls,
The die rolls.
But I love the ball the most.
The ink writes,
The pencil writes,
The charcoal writes.
But I love the pencil the most.
The wind blows,
The mouth blows,
The fan blows.
But I love the fan the most.
You see every others as sinners
You think of yourself as “the saint”
You forget your actions are sinful,
You fail to realize that makes you a sinner too.
Our love used to come like the dew
Fresh at every sunset without blemishes
Together we were so strong
And nothing could come in between us
We were labelled “perfect” by all
And everyone wished to be us
As we were envied by the young
So were we praised by the old
Our chain of love seemed unbreakable
Our pot never ran out of the sweet red love
We happily remained slaves together in a cage of love whose key was long missing
Until that very cursed day
When the key was found by the evil wind
Exposing us to the beast that resided in it
It approached us like a saint
With a venom of disunity and deceit on its lips
The very enemy we hid our precious love from all along
You kissed its lips and became infected
Drunk by the lies it fed you
We became a laughing stock
Our dignity and respect we lost
We were yet another lesson for people to learn from
A perfect example of failure and disappointment
You left me to drink from the cup of shame
To eat from the bowl of regret
To roam in a garment of disgrace
While you eloped with the evil bird
To live a new life of dishonor
I don’t need you in costume to panic
Your natural self should give me a heart attack
But that wouldn’t happen
Since I’m your kind of beast
Happy Halloween…
P.Lord Shelf 