Conversations With Myself

I figure God knows what He is doing in and for my life right now. Over thinking, burning with anxiety, worn with worry, high on depression, feeding negativity, welcoming headaches and heartache, losing my vision without a Will to suppress it all. This is where I am right now.

Who am I?


When you stop having bags under your eyes and what you remember last from your lips is a slurp of water to a dying sensation of words from them. We stand dead from excitement once we have knowledge of our experiences, daily surviving thoughts that consume our well being, what more do we know beyond the thought of tomorrow. Striped with the very hurt that consumes our hearts for what we could have done better lying only in our imagination because reality in our view proves to be the better orchestrated conversation for our lives. We are conscious in our subconscious, in limbo for a bled out conscience seeing no mood fit to be reflected by this body. The spirit stands at bay, airily speaking, making means to get back in, to lead, to go before me to the Almighty.

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Live How not When

It is a very interesting subject, now that I have given my mind room to stray into the “what if” of this world about myself and others.  I got to thinking about it, because the deeper I went into the thoughts I was having, I realised that the subject was speaking to Character. 

If you and I realise it now, in emotional sobriety for the ability of an objective view, the clearest form that we can understand who we are, and who we are becoming is a manifestation of WHAT is happening now, so WHEN we'll be is really not guaranteed because there is the irrefutable factor called change.  Once we delve into the monumental force that is change, other factors such as space and time, action and reaction come into play and then we find ourselves speaking about circumstance, how we could have and how we actually didn’t do or say something, there is just so much to consider, yet that brings us back to change.

I think we carry such a huge burden in our thoughts of having time or rather the burden came about in us somewhat concluding that we will live another day which could be taken away at any point. I don't want to be misunderstood, in that preparation for tomorrow is wrong, but what is it that you are preparing if it does not benefit your character now? I did not realise it until now, that I have lived under the shadows of many "friends" that the glimpse of popularity that was there was a well constructed feeling by them for them gaining more for themselves. Their NOW was embedded in what I didn't know I had such greatness in, Character.  We all use our habitat to nurture our character, we read books, listen to and attend motivational talks, we sit down with the elders (considered the wise) in hopes that the chain or wheel of past to present, although I would choose to say past in present, is mended. We pick up drips and drabs of elements in everything we surround ourselves with and that still isn’t even half of the work that really goes into how character is built. Something in my surroundings has said that it stops growing at some point or another.  Once again it is seeing what is on the outside, in the social circles we have, somewhere in us growing up we lost the absolute of things working from the inside out and fewer times from the outside in.

My answer to the question of when it stops growing was an unequivocal one, that mine evolving would be stopped by death.  The denotation of this word, character, is described as an “aggregate of features,” so from this we see that it is a forever facet, one that is a thawed.  This, however, is no excuse for hierarchical rule in misuse of power, anywhere.  I am convinced now, that the subconscious judgement we have passed on people about how they act was flawed but in the same breath repetition takes away from evolution.

The truth of our character is in our eyes when someone seeks hope, rising beyond odds in our greatest weakness, finding time to pray when all you can say nothing.

I Miss You

How and where do I even begin... I have to try establish if this is a feeling, a thought or an emotion, but what of it is all of them in one? A FEE-THOUGH-TION. Yes, I think I'll  call it that. In my head lies fragments of the last moment I saw you and even those are brought alive by the convulsions of my center, contracting and releasing at a pace that lets me know, I miss you.

I could hear a thousand words when I wake but everything sounds hollow before you say good morning to me.  Nothing defibrillates the long strayed withdraw that shies from interaction, disregarding tacid agreements that string fluids along. Yes, fluids rushing through to extremities voluntary and involuntary calling for expression far beyond my own will. Thoughts of a bit of me missing are what make me lie awake at night, because it was in creation you were extracted from my greatest dream put asleep in Adam.  Now, from that word alone room was long prepared for you in my heart and in my present it survives only by the stimulation in the emotion you make me bleed out for a prayed for future.

I miss the look in your eye when you catch me staring at you. The very look that decends a smile to your lips when you shy away, allowing the pit deep butterflies to ascend and fly freely in my stomach. I Must Insist Saving Siyabonga, Yearnings Outline Unity, I could break it down for my own sanity but the fact remailns, I miss you.

Tonight, I lay staring at an imagined dream catcher hoping that these last thoughts in my day come alive in my minds theatre on a show called Sleep.  You are the main act and until the joy of presence sees me fit of your embrace I dream.  I miss you deeply.

If...

My mind strays, wavering over ideas of "if." Where will I find council with your eyes offering more than just adventure, a little paradise with a refuge for a searching mind. In the ebb of the tides that pulls me away from the shores of your presence, your calling voice pierces through the sonorous roar of oceans calm, angels are at your call... 

Nations could describe the space in between your nose and chin as a smile, but given a whole new spectrum it would be how countenance inspired euphoria to beam from faces to hearts.  The ease of  its protrusion from a beauty offered shine, sits well inside and that is still not its end, because who can know the depth of thought when we lose so, so much in the nano seconds that the processing of single thoughts offers.  If, by some fiat, could control this process we would take only words from the present and what is offered for a possible future.  If we knew why time was dedicated to its cause outside of its effects, we would want control over it all and in so doing, eliminate the element of surprise, in all its virtue, we would miss the weakening of knees that the pound of hearts causes when we fall in love.   We would miss out on the opening of pours all over our body, offering goose bumps, to that chill of fear or flight to what is presented in fright and awe.  What more if we miss out on tears that cloak our hurt in its release from our systems or miss out on the other side of it which atonement, joy and overwhelming peace.  We could miss out on laughter which is one of the greatest heart offerings that wants nothing less from your body but breath, a little sound and a sigh right after, its simplicity is enough.  All of this is your voice, believe it or not. In sound or in silence I hear it in your eyes when you stand a far.

If I were deprived of all my senses, only heaven would offer messages to ensure the propulsion of life in me and with just who you are, heaven has called with a greater voice than I had imagined.  If I knew nothing and if heaven was not, then humanities entire existence would have not come to life, because in Generations, a mans Lifetime, has awaited your presence and it is only by Grace and Mercy that I came to contact with God’s light.

To How We Met

Before I say what I want to say I just want to remind you of what has brought us to this moment.  I am speaking about a time, a place, an day and certain emotion that filled the room, injected to all those present by euphoria.      

Words sit idle on tongues as an introduction is yet to avail itself to this encounter, steps towards you brave the thoughts that lie dormant to the appeal that will be given to you.  As my subconscious phases out all those around you, the dimmed out figures grow less as I draw closer to you and the music calls out to the tempo of my feet to ground, my heart loud in its pound, in this Glory that my eyes and in hope, my heart has found.  As you become aware of my approach, your eyes dawn a light that that guides my flit across the room.  For the accession of your time not to be found wasted, a smile brightened countenance welcomes a belly deep “Hello.”   Standing there looking lost in a dream, everything is silent to your question of who and how I am to Usher in words that would only be said once, yet an eternity’s foundation would be laid on. (Breath) “ Who I am is still in construction, the designer in prayer, in you, I hope I trust I have found.  How I am is humbled that God does not taunt me with beauty because you to me and all of heavens angels are His best creation. And I dare not ask who and how you are, because the world would stand still in its orbit for me not to have seen the mother of my children and I drop dead in the inability to breath in my new air supply.     

 The night has turned into just a still moment in space, because in our conversation you wield the sewing pin that embroiders  the lifelong quotes that woman such as yourself bring into being. I had wished at that moment of enlightenment, I held your hand to plug you into a live feed to my heart.  Even then, my hopes would have been to synchronise my own heart with yours, because from that moment I saw you as my lifeline.  You had asked when are we leaving but I heard when are breeding, the thought of being joined with you intertwined to string out a vessel to draw us away from the restless urge of belonging.  Realigning the scripture spoken in us being grounded here for hours lost in the transcending emotion, we’re stronger in two.    

 My pride implodes with the enlightenment of being taken, so far a new me has been awakened, humility and acceptance is found.

I Enjoy Watching God Paint.

Earlier today, from a clear iris with clear watered paint He covered an eye with what we call tears narrowed on cheeks to help the feeling of grief and dispair.  At that very moment, He cleared a view to a chapter that saw a spirit risen embodied with a fabric which we all were made, the soil.

Imagine being humbled by a gentle breeze that summoned the afternoon, and without fail night Gleasons with the complements the moon pays to the hour at dusk.  It is only our pensive thought to resigning from the day that does not allow us the evidence of the Canvass. The Ray that pays attribute to the final contribution of the sun to the final hour,  pays homage to to the silver lining in clouds, a message sworn to be the slightest belief to things being better in this life. The contrast is vast but in a few minutes this vision is passed.

The spectrum is spread over the array of our perceptions, of how and when day ends and not over the beauty that simplicity presents. The light only gives way to night because there is a known resurrection in light and night is the only revelation to this truth. From how the day wears you thin, glues your eye shut and you know it as rest. Vivid images, life defining voyages beat increasing never ceasing hour. Turning and twisting on the laid on platform an almost guaranteed victory is granted, because of an ancient long promise of being a conqueror is brought forth, when that Vail brings in light in the morning.  Open your eyes to the opportunity presented in Morning. 

The textures of His paint brushes are seen to us as cultures and creeds, dimensions of origin, tones and Characters.  From the root we all once came, the Adam fruit is spread across 7 continents to complete the day that He rested, to watch only from a distance far beyond our matter. From there He blows winds and exclaims in the thunder we hear when He brews a better day, within, to be without to be alive in Him. The countenances enabled by our expressions, our tones that change through nature, yes including distances of origin closer to the earths belt and the structure we have.

The privilege that astronauts have to see the globe from where it was created, with one hand outstretched, spoken into existence…  Even after centuries it still continues in its molding. Drifting sheets over liquid foundation, this is our world and God paints everything we see.