In the heart
Lays my joy, my hurt
The battlefield
From which flows my being, my cult
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
An Event Called Death( Klod Chikumbanje)
After my take I will quit
And accept a body and soul split
Might be too old then
Though not enough for it
In sin at birth I was soaked
Later washed by the precious blood
For which till now I stand
On fours, I admired a sprint
On it, it is gray hair
Slowly maturing for His glory
But on threes what will come ahead?
Will meet the Prince, our brother
As He will welcome my soul to rest
So tired after life’s bruises and test
And accept a body and soul split
Might be too old then
Though not enough for it
In sin at birth I was soaked
Later washed by the precious blood
For which till now I stand
On fours, I admired a sprint
On it, it is gray hair
Slowly maturing for His glory
But on threes what will come ahead?
Will meet the Prince, our brother
As He will welcome my soul to rest
So tired after life’s bruises and test
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