I come not bearing gifts of gold and silver, for your heavenly coffers overflow with plenty. It is not precious metals that please thee, metals that pale into insignificance, in the light of your countenance.

Talents I have not many to cheer thee. My words lack wit to amuse . The vocabulary I have, though flowery, fails to describe your sovereignty and glory, your mercy and grace .

My voice no match to the angels above, who sing sweetly your praise all day .Mine a quaver in contrast, cannot delight thine ears with a song.

I approach not with a harp or tambourine nor the musical flute . For the music I create, can never compare, to the melody of heavenly hosts crying, Hallelujah.

Food offerings none I bring, though my fare a bountiful gift from thee. For you seek not appeasement with nourishment, not with that which can never equal the banquet of heaven.

But I come before thee, once again, with the sacrifice of my broken life, lay down before thee, my shattered dreams . With my heart full of repentance, my tears I spill at your feet. Accept my pertinence and heal me oh God and make me whole again. Breathe life into my dying spirit and raise me from the mire, again .

As the tired body lays down at night,like troubled waters churns the mind ,stealing the much needed rest, those worries they rise one by one .

Pushing and jostling for attention, some more than the others, they line up, one after the other, while the weary body, tossing and turning, tries to find safety in oblivion,

Who are these creatures, these demons, that haunt and torment at night? A niggling doubt a distant rumble, soon gathering momentum and engulfing like a wave

Lurking in the back of the mind, they manifest and magnify, to fill our consciousness, when work is set aside. To steal that much needed sleep which remains remarkably elusive .

Thoughts of poor choices made, of altercations had during the day. The careless actions, unkind words, of self and others. Replaying scenes, enacting various outcomes, over and over again .

Useless regrets, bitter remorse, and mindless retributions planned. Overpowering jealousy and vain longing for things not meant to be. All come crowding in to keep us awake, those unwelcome demons of the night .

Anxious moments we have, over our health and our wealth. Overwhelming thoughts causing disquiet that cripples and paralyses, controlling our hearts and minds, as we succumb to panic.

Loneliness that accompanies the dark, the distance we feel when the lights turn off. What is it that lends credibility, to those baseless fears and doubts, in the dead of the night ?

Shutting the door to the faceless tormentors, pushing them out the exhausting worries, tossing and turning,we await sleep .Finally, that much anticipated blissful slumber.! For a few hours we lose ourselves, in restful dreams or fearful nightmares ,until wakefulness, until when morning,

Through the day, busy once again, we wonder about those nameless terrors. waiting on the threshold of our mind, feeling their pressure as they stand by, to gain entry when we are vulnerable again .

Oh tears, from where do you spring, from where do you come, unbidden? Be it in sadness or happiness, in hopelessness, frustration or relief. Teary times or weary times, you always appear on cue .

When in dismay, distress or distraught, you pour out to wash away our hurt. Happy times or tragic times, glorious moments or dishonourable ones, when we rejoice or when we mourn, you are certain to flow.

Grief takes many a form, a broken heart, a wounded one, be it that of a man or a woman. The furious tears of a bawling child, copious tears of an anguished heart. You measure our agony, our ecstasy, to gush in torrents,spill in rivulets, or just fall in a sad trickle .

Can you perceive the euphoria of a woman, holding her new born baby or fill the vast ocean with the endless tears of a grieving mother,? Can you fathom the sorrow of bereavement, judge the thrill of a major conquest or gauge the misery of bitter failure ?

Can you ease our pain or heighten our pleasure ?Are you a remedy, or a salve, to heal our emotions ? Are you bitter on the face of the poor, sweet on the face of the rich? Do you spare the young and punish the old, by being their constant companion ?

To the one who holds our tears I pray, be gentle with those who can cry no more, kind to the lonely and the defenceless. For our children, favour I pray, have mercy on them. If possible, let them weep not tears of anguish but that of jubilation and victory

It is my birthday, special it is they say, but it is just another day. Rising in the morning ,not to pealing bells but the strident alarm, as everyday .

No blazing comet in the sky ,just the rising sun. No singing telegram, but the whistling kettle and the chirping birds. Oh it’s just another ordinary day.

So what is it that makes it special? The love and best wishes,from family and friends alike. Remembered by those near and far. From obscurity into the limelight I step, on this my birthday.

With the passing time, in the year gone by, have learnt that ordinary is just as special and to be enjoyed . Yesterday is no more, tomorrow may never be, but each day I cherish and make it special .

Above all I thank the Lord ,Who was with me in my yesterday, Who is in my today, and will be in my tomorrow, until the end of my days.

Thank you dear friends, one and all, for making this a memorable day, with your kind wishes and love .

A red rose, a gaily wrapped gift, chocolates , candies and cake. A moonlit dinner, a kiss under the stars, a declaration of undying love, on the this the most romantic day.

Cupid’s arrow drawn and ready, finding its mark at random. bringing together lovers, young and old , matched and mismatched. Some for a lifetime, others for a moment. until the magic lasts.

The celebration of love so materialistic, a thriving business for all . A strange attraction, an attachment, developed by emotions most complex, is Love. Can it be boxed, can it be bottled, can it be wrapped and tied with a ribbon?

The pure selfless love of a parent, that transcends all heartbreak and disappointments. The romantic, passionate love of a spouse ,grows platonic over the years .The trusting love of a child and the kinship shared by friends. A many faceted emotion it is .

Nurtured by words and actions, held strong by trust and belief, love grows. Sometimes pure, fierce and strong. But not always positive or healthy, it can be selfish and addictive. Unrequited love, the plot of many a tale of sorrow and unconditional love, though a myth, we enjoy from our four legged friends.

Today I acknowledge that the greatest love of all is the love of the Divine for His creation, and as we all crave for love, let us understand that the easiest to achieve, is the love for oneself . So this Valentine’s Day, I choose to party with Me, Myself and I .

Turning sixty, a great milestone, the start of a new decade, another gift in time. A birthday, a celebration ,an age to be venerated, Marking the transition from middle aged to old.

Moving from the fast lane, to that of the more sedate, from gainful employment, to the much awaited leisure. From the killing fields of competitive career, to the mellow life of the retired.

Six decades it has been. We pranced through our precocious childhood, danced through the wild and carefree teens. We sailed through the tempestuous twenties ,stormed through the feisty thirties. We walked through the forties with poise and style, followed by the mature and staid fifties .

Now we stand on the threshold of, the wise and sage sixties. With each period, with every experience, adding to a our store of knowledge, we have reached with wisdom, to meet another decade. Yet, we look ahead with apprehension, not knowing what lies before us.

Is this the end or a new beginning, we wonder with uncertainty. Moving from the age of more is less to that of less is more, we become minimalists. From being worldly to being spiritual .

Our voice once strong, now weak, stops not from declaring the truth. Our eyes once bright, now less sharp but discerning, look upon others, with empathy .Our ears, failing though they may be, are willing to listen, with patience and sympathy.

Our appetite not what it was, we now savour and relish simple meals .Body and limbs less nimble and agile, daily tasks are slow and cumbersome, yet we perform them with grace and good cheer.

Time once boundless and slow, now limited and passing fast, teaching us the joy of living each moment. Being alone no longer undesirable, we enjoy solitude and discovering ourselves. No longer governed by the fear of failure, we live with no worry of rejection .

What then are we anxious about, in this new decade? Have we not traversed many a year? Once again, on our terms we will live. So Let’s embrace love, laughter and self, as we glide through our sixties, with dignity and pride.

Unsung heroes are we not all, with great deeds but no recognition ? Dodging the bullets life throws at us, the curve balls and the wild cards. Sometimes we overcome, and at others, barely escaping .

Shattered dreams and disappointments, hope that bubbles and bursts, our lot . With no sword or cannons, we take on life with its barrage of disillusionment. Are we not valiant soldiers?

With no handbook nor instructions ,we often make poor decisions, consequences of which are overwhelming . But not conceding defeat ,we rise after each fall. Is that not commendable?

At times champions of a cause, we take a stance and hold fast . Misjudged and misunderstood, shunned and forsaken, we still fight resolutely, without surrender, for that which we hold sacred.

Sometimes born with disabilities, for no fault of ours but that of the stars, challenges we face many .Though a failing battle, we don’t yield, but fight stoically, to conquer those weakness.

Being selfless at times considered a trait of weakness, turning us into victims of betrayal. But we don’t stop being kind and generous, caring for others, sharing their trials, even if unappreciated.

Not an example or a cautionary tale, leaving no blazing trail, we quietly pass through life. Riding its storms its upheavals, with no peal of trumpets or fanfare, we endure life’s perilous journey, till the very end .

Though life is seldom kind,,we forge ahead with courage and tenacity. Often tossed into a maelstrom of hardship we hold strong. Against all odds, we fight to survive, to perpetuate life . Are we not then heroes ?

Barely six months into my blog ,I must confess I suffer from a block .Oh no, not the arterial one, but the much dreaded ailment that befalls a writer, the inevitable block . Some may say it’s premature, nevertheless it’s my present condition.

Sitting down with ideas none, nothing new forthcoming, writing is a bane, a tedious task. Looking at the garden green,the sky above, the people around, waiting for that intelligent flow of words, is like expecting hell to freeze over .

A definite slowdown it is ! My muse has fled my brain, like the moose the barn. Stealing my new found creativity, leaving me with no inspiration, straining my feeble writing skills, which much to my chagrin, is dwindling.

Despondently I wonder, will this inability soon disappear or is it here to stay? Will I be besieged with this affliction, each time I venture to write a piece? The answer to that, am afraid, is still at large .

Notwithstanding, my poor disposition, I choose to wait on heaven’s intervention, in this matter most alarming . But alas to my dismay and distress ,there is no glimmer of revelation.

Ready to abandon this vain attempt ,ironic though it may seem, I choose to ink down my thoughts on this unwelcome malady, known to many of fame and now to me .

But I rest in the knowledge, that my muse will soon return. Until then, will lay down my pen, much to the relief of some, indifference of others and to those few who may miss my poems, fear not, for I will be back. 😀

The year 2020 , a memorable one, a roller coaster with ups and of downs, will go down in history. Tragedies and great fortunes, destructions and reconstructions. A year inconceivable, yet so tenable . Counting the days and months,we have now reached the end .

We made inroads in reaching out, to those in need, to heal broken relationships. We forged new bonds ,renewed old ones and friends we now have many . We learnt to accept our differences, to choose peace instead of dissent, accord over discord.

Though a year of lockdowns and imprisonment, it was the year that liberated us. As we were forced to spend time alone, we found in those moments, ourselves and the strength within.

We conquered our vulnerability, turned it into strength . Our fears we quelled and changed it to calm. We turned dull chores into a charm, even dish washing became therapeutic. Our daily fare we converted to gourmet meals, with simple and ingenious embellishments. We took our mundane, made it magical.

Talents and skills hitherto scarce and unknown, we discovered in ourselves and others. Encouraging each other we raised, our collective competency, our self worth .

Spending time in prayer and meditation, we found a spiritual connection with the Divine and humanity .This year is leaving us enriched and It is with gratitude we bid farewell to 2020 .It is with hope and fortitude that we greet the new year 2021, knowing we are prepared, for whatever it holds for us.

A Happy New Year -2021

Live in the present, live in the moment, an age old adage , spouted by the wise and the intelligent. A matter of opinion that, for is it really possible Not to live in the present. The past we no longer can reverse, the future an illusion at best, so here we stand only to experience the present .

But is not the present a consequence of the past and the future fashioned from our present actions? A strange condition this, I must say. The story of the pregnant deer, a much circulated, narrative adopted by most counsellors, to illustrate the importance of staying focused on the present.

A poor pregnant deer out in the open, hemmed in by danger from all directions. A hunter in front with an arrow drawn,a big cat from behind, ready to strike, a forest fire on the right and a rushing river on the left . With no escape route and in severe pain,she is forced to stop ,to give birth to her little one. The turn of events that followed, quickly removed all the challenges .

A loud thunder, like the proverbial bell, saved the little dear from imminent danger . The sound distracted the hunter, who lost his aim and shot the tiger. The furious cat changed direction and chased the hunter away. The heavy downpour that came after the thunder, soon quenched the flames of the forest, leaving the deer in peace as her baby is born. A happy ending, all in all .

So then, what is the moral of the story? When troubles besiege us from every side, leaving us with no avenue of escape, we are forced to focus on the task at hand . If providence chooses to smile, we will be saved, released from the grip of terror, but what if not ? When backed into a corner, surrounded by danger, is the choice still ours to make, are we still the authors of our story ?

What of the other times, when the choice is ours to make, do we ignore the past, plan not for the future and live only one moment to the next ?