My printer sounds like it's in pain.
Ugh ><;

I love Jeremy Fowler :)

All alone,
You surround me
And you found me.

So tell me why you care.

I can't dance (though I really really really wish I could), but I don't careeeeeeeeeeee :).

I wanna be like King David- singing and dancing with all my might to the Mighty God :).

There's something wrong, if you don't think that there's something wrong.
Well, are you willing to make it work?

she's so beautiful, and I tell her everyday

&& when you smile, the whole world stops and stares a while.

:)

Hehe Renee. Love this song :).

Hold Me Now

Daddy? I'm scared ><;
You know me; even better than I know myself.
I can't save me.

But you- you will be with me always. You have never let me down, and you will not ever, ever let me go.

It feels like it's getting harder and harder each day- maybe.
I hear about worse and worse things all the time.
The world is getting sicker and sicker.

I worry.
So much.
But what is there to worry about?
Life sucks. But you are by far greater, and true life and true love with you awaits- forevermore.

A Little Pain

A distant memory of pain.
I had forgotten the bitter taste of disappointment.
I had forgotten what it felt like to be sad.

---

Teeheeeeeeeeeee :).
Writing up snippets of my short story.
Might include this bit. Or not? Dunno.
Just felt like writing.

Honestly, the only thing (I can think of) that I hate about being a girl is the fact that we have feelings.

Feelings that make it really hard to get over things; feelings that make you very sensitive and thus vulnerable sometimes; feelings that make you moody; feelings that make you confused.

I guess that's why we make good mothers; we're sensitive, perceptive and intuitive.

It's just that feelings get in the way so much.

It's... Annoying, dare I say =\.

1 Timothy 1:12-17

12I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me faithful, appointing me to his service. 13Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. 14The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.

15Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. 16But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life. 17Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen.

Your Precious Ones Need You

My God, my God,
At the expense (okay not an expense; I don't care!) of sounding like a child- you are so amazing! I really don't know what else to say- I feel like my vocab is limited more than ever; no words could ever express how awesome you are!
You blow my mind away.
You, beautiful one.
The one I love, who loves me so much greater by far!

Jesus is indeed the saving one!

Keep holding onto your precious ones, please.

---

I thought I saw you in the summer sky;
You looked at me,
And I saw the stars in your eyes.

I LOVE NEW EMPIRE!!!
JEREMY FOWLER. LOL.
Love his solo album :)

A Little Bit of Beauty

A little bit of beauty
Is immediately undercut by something ugly;
All the while, an undercurrent of bitterness carves its way through your heart,
Eroding bit by bit,
Until you
Give way.

But I will not give way. I will cling to the little bit of beauty, as you grow me into more and more of You.

Psalm 126:2-3

“...Then it was said amongst the nations: ‘The Lord has done great things for them.’ The Lord has done great things for us and we are filled with joy.”

Death- John Clare

Why should man's high aspiring mind
Burn in him with so proud a breath,
When all his haughty views can find
In this world yields to death?
The fair, the brave, the vain, the wise,
The rich, the poor, the great, and small,
Are each but worm's anatomies
To strew his quiet hall.

Power may make many earthly gods,
Where gold and bribery's guilt prevails,
But death's unwelcome, honest odds
Kick o'er the unequal scales.
The flattered great may clamours raise
Of power, and their own weakness hide,
But death shall find unlooked-for ways
To end the farce of pride,

An arrow hurtled eer so high,
From een a giant's sinewy strength,
In Time's untraced eternity
Goes but a pigmy length;
Nay, whirring from the tortured string,
With all its pomp of hurried flight,
Tis by the skylark's little wing
Outmeasured in its height.

Just so man's boasted strength and power
Shall fade before death's lightest stroke,
Laid lower than the meanest flower,
Whose pride oer-topt the oak;
And he who, like a blighting blast,
Dispeopled worlds with war's alarms
Shall be himself destroyed at last
By poor despised worms.

Tyrants in vain their powers secure,
And awe slaves' murmurs with a frown,
For unawed death at last is sure
To sap the babels down.
A stone thrown upward to the sky
Will quickly meet the ground agen;
So men-gods of earth's vanity
Shall drop at last to men;

And Power and Pomp their all resign,
Blood-purchased thrones and banquet halls.
Fate waits to sack Ambition's shrine
As bare as prison walls,
Where the poor suffering wretch bows down
To laws a lawless power hath passed;
And pride, and power, and king, and clown
Shall be Death's slaves at last.

Time, the prime minister of Death!
There's nought can bribe his honest will.
He stops the richest tyrant's breath
And lays his mischief still.
Each wicked scheme for power all stops,
With grandeurs false and mock display,
As eve's shades from high mountain tops
Fade with the rest away.

Death levels all things in his march;
Nought can resist his mighty strength;
The palace proud, triumphal arch,
Shall mete its shadow's length.
The rich, the poor, one common bed
Shall find in the unhonoured grave,
Where weeds shall crown alike the head
Of tyrant and of slave.

Mad Mother

Over-and-over again,
Her heart will break.

Why offer yourself up for a lifetime of complete vulnerability?

It's something I will never comprehend, until one day, it's my turn.
I can only imagine the wideness, deepness, gentleness and tenderness of her passion; the fierce intensity with which she protects her child; holds it to her breast.

It's crazy, but then again, it's love.

Sacrifice after sacrifice.
But worth every one.

---

Her eyes are wild, her head is bare,
The sun has burnt her coal-black hair,
Her eye-brows have a rusty stain,
And she came far from over the main.
She has a baby on her arm,
Or else she were alone;
And underneath the hay-stack warm,
And on the green-wood stone,
She talked and sung the woods among;
And it was in the English tongue.

"Sweet babe! they say that I am mad,
But nay, my heart is far too glad;
And I am happy when I sing
Full many a sad and doleful thing:
Then, lovely baby, do not fear!
I pray thee have no fear of me,
But, safe as in a cradle, here
My lovely baby! thou shalt be,
To thee I know too much I owe;
I cannot work thee any woe."

A fire was once within my brain;
And in my head a dull, dull pain;
And fiendish faces one, two, three,
Hung at my breasts, and pulled at me.
But then there came a sight of joy;
It came at once to do me good;
I waked, and saw my little boy,
My little boy of flesh and blood;
Oh joy for me that sight to see!
For he was here, and only he.

Suck, little babe, oh suck again!
It cools my blood; it cools my brain;
Thy lips I feel them, baby! they
Draw from my heart the pain away.
Oh! press me with thy little hand;
It loosens something at my chest;
About that tight and deadly band
I feel thy little fingers press'd.
The breeze I see is in the tree;
It comes to cool my babe and me.

Oh! love me, love me, little boy!
Thou art thy mother's only joy;
And do not dread the waves below,
When o'er the sea-rock's edge we go;
The high crag cannot work me harm,
Nor leaping torrents when they howl;
The babe I carry on my arm,
He saves for me my precious soul;
Then happy lie, for blest am I;
Without me my sweet babe would die.

Then do not fear, my boy! for thee
Bold as a lion I will be;
And I will always be thy guide,
Through hollow snows and rivers wide.
I'll build an Indian bower; I know
The leaves that make the softest bed:
And if from me thou wilt not go.
But still be true 'till I am dead,
My pretty thing! then thou shalt sing,
As merry as the birds in spring.

Thy father cares not for my breast,
'Tis thine, sweet baby, there to rest:
'Tis all thine own! and if its hue
Be changed, that was so fair to view,
'Tis fair enough for thee, my dove!
My beauty, little child, is flown;
But thou will live with me in love,
And what if my poor cheek be brown?
'Tis well for me, thou canst not see
How pale and wan it else would be.

Dread not their taunts, my little life!
I am thy father's wedded wife;
And underneath the spreading tree
We two will live in honesty.
If his sweet boy he could forsake,
With me he never would have stay'd:
From him no harm my babe can take,
But he, poor man! is wretched made,
And every day we two will pray
For him that's gone and far away.

I'll teach my boy the sweetest things;
I'll teach him how the owlet sings.
My little babe! thy lips are still,
And thou hast almost suck'd thy fill.
--Where art thou gone my own dear child?
What wicked looks are those I see?
Alas! alas! that look so wild,
It never, never came from me:
If thou art mad, my pretty lad,
Then I must be for ever sad.

Oh! smile on me, my little lamb!
For I thy own dear mother am.
My love for thee has well been tried:
I've sought thy father far and wide.
I know the poisons of the shade,
I know the earth-nuts fit for food;
Then, pretty dear, be not afraid;
We'll find thy father in the wood.
Now laugh and be gay, to the woods away!
And there, my babe; we'll live for aye.

Nothing Like Home

Nothing feels as good as running, crawling, falling back into your arms; being held in your embrace; just seeing, feeling, smelling, hearing, tasting your glory.

Whether it be a good or bad or busy or slow day, it doesn't matter.

Knowing you is enough.

Look Up.

Dance, dance, dance;
See how fast your feet move!
They cheer you on.

Enraptured by the blur that is your feet (lol renee xDDD);
Looking down, too busy to see where you're going.

With every step you take, you're getting further and further away.

Enjoying Life.

Spent some quality time with Becki, Isaac and Gary today on the train home from RICE zones.

Okay; our lame jokes and putting down of one another can hardly be called 'quality' time, but you know what? Just chilling and enjoying each others' company sometimes > all.

Perhaps they didn't think much of it, but it is times like these that I become most aware of how precious and beautiful the other person/their company/their presence is; times like these in which I become aware of something much greater than life and its immediate/impending pressures.

We just... Talked. Laughed. (Gary, the science grad he is, tested a hypothesis on Becki with interesting results P;)

Becki and Isaac are the cutest brother and sister combo ever. Their genuine warmth, yet cheeky affection for one another was a privilege to behold/be part of.

Admittedly, this is just a glimpse of what the speaker talked about today; 'I have come so that you may have life, and life to the full'. But it was beautiful.

And if the tiniest glimpse of it is amazing, imagine how awesome the fullness of it will be!

"I Don't Know"

She pushes
and she pulls;
she is restless;
her heart never content
with either.

A compromise?
Her affections are ever-changing;
Her affectations greater still.

It seems to be,
that there is no better option
than to just go with the flow.

She is wrought by insecurity.

So, like, I have one paragraph to to for ext eng.

GO DO IT. NOW.

Post Modernism Is Killing My Mind.

Cassie and I concluded today that we're crazy.

---

I wonder what you see.
We all see things differently, right? I wonder just how different we are. And similar.

What would it be like to look at the world, as you, for a day?

She's too wrapped up in all these things, to realise how beautiful life can be.

And she's like, "I'm sorry. I'm not good enough for you."
She chokes back tears, and she thinks of the million other girls prettier, smarter, better than her.

And he's like, "I have made you worthy."

Listen

I'm so sick of it all.
Can we just like shut up, and
no more judging
no more harsh words
no false pretences;
can we just be vulnerable and humble?

No more sad love songs;
no more flaming;
no more 'I'm too good for this';
no more 'strong opinions';
could we just shut up, just shut up, shut up and come, simply, humbly
before the King.

Only then will we be lifted up.

Please. Don't get me wrong- I love the sound of your voice.

And what you're saying may be beautiful.

But if you don't shut up, you might just miss that whisper.