Morning Sunlight

Spring sunlight streamed through the window to greet me.

"Hello young girl," the light spoke to me.

"Why good morning, fair light!  How do you be?"

The light seemed to think and pause but then said,

"I'm glad to be back in winter's stead."

When a Vegan Eats Cheese

My sister made my lunch today,

at school I sat and ate away

at the macaroni and sauce on my plate-

but wait!  What's this!  Cheese have I here!

I will still eat it lest hunger be clear.

As I moved from class to class, 

my bowels churned - and, alas,

an awkwardness settled about me.  

In earnest and humble plea, 

those around me left my company

to flee to whence their noses could live free.  

"Burning rubber" said one of the smell.  

"Nay," said another, "but I can tell 

an egg has rotten on this very spot." 

But the first nor the second, it was not.  

You see, cheese in the stomach of a vegan does not end well at all.  

For today many died, yes, many did fall.  

No more will they be,

because I, a vegan, was served cheese.

Leah

Leah is a song I wrote after my neice was stillborn on my twelfth birthday.  I recorded it on my brother's album and I would like to share this link with you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMyVeFwrMUo

Feel the trickle of the rain,

hear the wind go by.

Know the feeling of the pain,

watch your love fly away again!

And all of our hopes

and all of our dreams,

carried away,

down the stream

And all of our thoughts

and all of our cares,

taken afar,

in the sun's glare!

Never a smile from your face,

never a laugh.

Pointing to all our fates,

is the design from the past!

And all of our hopes

and all of our dreams,

carried away,

down the stream

And all of our thoughts

and all of our cares,

taken afar,

in the sun's glare!

The Only Way

I've tried;

I have tried to do what is right.

I've Tried,

tried to do things on my own,

all alone.

I've cried;

I  have cried, seeing my failure and in despair

I've cried,

cried, seeing no one is there

nor cares.

I've died;

I have died to self and my own desires.

I've died

died and given up at my own efforts

for You.

Confusion

Confusion at every turn

Satan’s lies surround my life

I’d rather be burned

Than face the blade of deceits knife

Where are you leading me, Lord?

Where should I follow?

Who is yours, Lord?

And who is only hollow?

Sadness at every break

Confusion of lies

For the escape I’ll make

Is only my first try

Where are you leading me, Lord?

Where should I follow?

Who is yours, Lord?

And who is only hollow?

Who is the good one here?

Who is the fake?

Will I shed my last tear,

At heaven’s gate?

Like My Loving Saviour

Like the summer sun shining on a smiling face,

you comfort me.

Like a pleasant breeze filling the stuffy place,

you calm me.

Like a hug around my body so warm and strong,

you protect me.

Like a concerned mother duck's alarm,

you lead me.

Like the beauty found in a little flower,

you created me.

Like the happy communion of Sabbath hour,

you rest me.

Like the moon's sweet smile over the land,

you care for me.

Like the gentle touch of a father's hand,

you encourage me.

For you are master above all things,

loving, caring and good.

And as the early Church bell rings,

I know that you are there.

Much like a Blind Man

One might ask a blind man what he dreams of.  How could a man who was blind from birth dream of things he hasn’t seen?  Would he dream of colour?  His wife’s face?  The pleasant mountain view?  How could he dream of something that he does not know? 

Everyone can be much like a blind man.  Trapped inside our own world, taking into consideration only what we know.  We may see our abundant riches and large residencies and not begin to fathom the heartbreak of poverty suffered by many.  How can a visionary from a high estate possibly dictate the needs of the meek?        

Knowing myself and my own struggles, I see that I have not always viewed the world from my adversaries’ eyes.  How can I possibly perceive even a hue as they do.  Much like a blind man, I cannot dream of what I have not seen.  I have not seen through anyone’s eyes but my own.   I have not felt with anyone’s hands but my own.  All I know is what’s in my world.   So I cannot expect anyone to know and think as I do.  And you cannot expect me to know and think as you do.  For we are all much like a blind man.