Too soon

Like funeral clothes discarded

This crimson red misery

Stained with tears and fears of a faltering hope.

Eleven atheletes in disarray

Pacing up and down, back and forth

Kicking and flicking

To patch together a win

Perhaps a point.

Red-faced over one who has ears only

For Gallic style and ideals

For the beautiful game

That the feet and hearts of boys

From many nations

Cannot carry nor hoist

With honours

For the season ends too soon

Too soon.

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Before the curtains fall

Before the curtains fall

And the sea is no more

May my eyes behold the glory of the Lord

Wash over the peoples of the earth

And may the colors of his love

Reveal the liberty of sons and daughters

What a sight

What a delight

When earth is shaken

And heaven’s perfections

Restores the garden of the Lord and

Life reigns supreme from the center again.

(Poem composed during the time of waiting on God at the Pastors’ Prayer Summit 2012 at Malacca)

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