I am a book of one page
There is someone I know who is a novel

I am a business card of no business at all
and the echoing words of Jacob Marley
haunt me through all the seasons of my life

So to was it for Jesus i believe’ mankind was His business:
>mankind-children-homeless-orphans-sick-old-prisoners as well as seemingly ordinary people in churches, synagogues, temples and caves, where ever people came to worship God. People who mask well their hurt and pain and loneliness and depressions and melancholia and are barely able to bear with the weight of the world crashing on them daily.

I am wasting my time Lord hiding behind a hard broken heart
I am a man child who refuses to take the medicine that will heal him

How do you have patience with me, with us?
for there must be and army like me
bitter, hurting, jealous, cold, closed and getting older by the minute

This is between you and me Lord, or is it?
is it once again just me complaining about something in my life that is wrong and un-fixable?
or is it really just nothing, a spoiled brat syndrome.


there truly is something amiss, something here, or not here.
today I heard the term THE HOLE IN THE GOSPEL,
does that explain in part hole I feel in my heart?

It is three days from 64 and it’s the same old story again and again and again,
I get so weary of the dark night of my soul