Saturday, March 29, 2008

This is not my Voice

This is not my voice; that I do speak
these words from cracks my lips do seep
with tales each leaf has kept to tell
with songs so hidden within each shell,
with works unwritten each time I try
with words unspoken with every sigh;
That such I write is new and fresh?
Nay these words come from the flesh
that each man wears, each bird and bee;
Yet some-how,
Yet still-now,
Man sees not what mere birds see.

Perhaps these words are but a waste,
Perhaps some day we all shall taste
the sweetness of water, the blackbird's call
the whisper of worlds, I heard them all--

I hear and hear and try to hold
the words! They seek to overflow
from my tongue, till now,
they refuse to still
These words like foam both bubble and spill
Into the ears of friends I know
into the hearts of those I care
Into the ink my hand does hold
Into the the eyes of those who stare;
These words rush forth like bulls to red
Most that come would not be said
Dodge I would, if given the choice
Yet in the end--
This is not my voice.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

The Sinful Rant

Recently I've been feeling rather emo. And I think I found the problem.

Its also the seven vices, you know? And this time its Envy. Something I thought I beat years ago.

Oh well, old foes always come back, eh?

I'm getting this feeling of incredible self-pity whenever I talk to people better than me. I also feel this sense of resentment because they are better, and I cannot do anything about it.

It makes me feel inferior, and Pride (ahar! Another one!) does not like that.

And hence the cause of my emo, due to me being unable to express it (which usually translates into beating people-gasp! Wrath now!)

I could go on about this, but I kinda tired (Sloth...o_O), and I really cannot bring myself to do any homework. Procrastination is really consuming me. I'm not joking.

I keep aiming for higher targets, because everyone around me aims for higher targets, and yet I'm not quite satisfied with what I get, because everyone else is doing better, and I keep wanting to get more for doing less. (I think this is Greed)

What does that leave us? Lust. Great, one of...those sins. Can't really say much, except that DnD and various other personal interests are distracting me from my primary goals in life. I suppose thats Lust. Lust for personal enjoyment and fun.

Bleh. As weird as this post is, every word is true. I really do feel this way, and its driving me crazy.

This is not helped by the level of maturity of thought most of the people around me exhibit.

I feel like an immature loser. Maybe I am one.

Dam psychoanalysis. This is NOT an attempt at gathering pity. Or maybe it is. Shit. I really don't know my own mind anymore...

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

A Picture Everyone Has

Beauty is something that all enjoy
that needs no payment or words of mouth
from the greatest work to the simplest toy
that is within and is without.

Beauty is something that man has maked
from things once maked, the hands that trod
on the world we see, we shape the shaped
as the mirror reflects the works of God

Beauty is something that is bitter and sweet
Cruel and kind to the heart and eyes
With colors bright and colors deep
Colors that bring both laughs and sighs

Beauty is something we never know
seeking the beauty that is not true
Sometimes we forget and follow the flow
instead of enjoying the Life we knew

We seek only the joys, never the pain
and so our joy in Life does wane
Divide the lines and we forget
the darkness that the light begets.

Sunday, March 23, 2008


Men shall come and men shall go
Words once written by wiser hands
So what can we do, but to those around
Help them in their troubled lives?

Some may seek to cure all woes
Others the power to rule the lands
Some seek pleasure, freedom unbound
Others the knowledge on which they thrive

So fight it on, through days and age
Ignore the praise and words of pain
As people seek what people wish
But in the realm of tools, there is one goal

The dreams of greatness are but our cage
We seek the rainbows without the rain
Give men a rod and not a fish
And so we work to raise their souls

The fire burns but none shall guess
The wax that feeds the flames along
Shall claim no credit, but to see
The fires burn for them up high

Men have gone far lower for less
For men have goals, both right or wrong
The beauty of others give beauty to me
The peace of community brings us a sigh

There lies regret, pain is our path
Thankless are the people's flame
The people replace the wax each day
To keep the fires burning so

But rather have the fire burn last
than have the candles out in shame
The wax is wax without a say
Until the fires light its soul

We will not walk but carry loads
We will not run but push the cart
Others will soar while down below
We hold the string that pulls the kite

The sight is long across the roads
The aim is one of many parts
These words shall not be kept in flow
For it is nature for us hide

Remember the sweeper, remember the roads
Remember the speaker, remember the phones
Remember the makers, remember the crafts
But never, ever

Remember us last.


Notes: There is a reason for the title.

The Seues

Bleh, was looking through archives and stuff, and thought I might want to post this.

A DnD monster, during a Monster creation thread. Most of the people who know me should have seen this before.



The Seues is a fiend from down below,
Whom discord in battle it enjoys to sow.
Three spells it has, one unique.
Adventures or bards, it likes to seek;

Strike them down with its pen-shaped sword,
usually going for the party lord
or anyone else whom it finds looks smart,
for the Seues loves rhymes, from its heart.

Its aim in life is to hear good rhymes;
which it eats, one word a time.

First of its spells, to Fascinate
creatures he captures, up to eight.
This is needed to cast its curse,
The Seues has 10 in Perform(verse)

The Next is simple: a Suggestion spell;
which is usually used to make others unwell
or silence his voice, to enchance the power
of the third spell, from which great men cower:

The Rhymers Curse, two targets choose;
Will save 20 or they shall lose
normal actions for 1d8
following turns, unless he makes
each move rhyme with the last word he says,
Either that, or someone prays
for a wish or miracle to save the one
(or at least until his life is done.)

(for example now, If I shout "Rage!"
we must then proceed to strike the mage.)

All Seuesses wear a striped top-hat,
and look like a human crossed with a cat.
If given a poem or verse that's good,
It will ignore the party, enjoying its food.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Primer's Council at 4am

A little of this, a little of that. I find a blog rather nice for expressing my thoughts, as screwed as they might be. Don't worry, this is not a rant. I think.

Rather, its sort of another discussion on Leadership. Lots to say about it really, one of which is (somewhat) emo.

Basically today for BB we had Primer's Council, in which all the high and mighty leaders of the Primers gather (which, strangely enough, was most of us) to speak and discuss their committees. As Official Steering Secretary and Unofficial Secretary-of-Everything (I might be exaggerating though, I'm not Sec for a few committees), I was basically typing my way into finger spasm throughout the meeting.

Still, a few things brought up caught my attention. What little I attention I had to give, of course. Still, they made me think somewhat...

Little on what Russ said. In Steering we have "3 Leaders and 1 Slave". No prizes for guessing who he was refering to. Apparently, this is cause alot of them are "very strong willed", meaning they butt heads alot. Which means very little gets done, sadly.

The Emo side of this is that I think (actually, I know. He told me himself) that I am the "Slave". This has several implications, chief of which was tied in to something else the Captain had said.

Apparently, he sees in our cohort an "incredible potential for leadership" and once again tied to the "stubborness...lots of internal conflicts". I am rather tempted to start shouting "Hurrah! Take that Leadership Programs!", but somehow all this does is make me feel dejected.

Cause I kinda feel like a Slave. I really don't want to lead, I just want to get things done. And that usually means people use me to get things done since a) Leaders Delegate and b) Slaves Work. I'm starting to wonder how much do I actually fit in with the cohort, and whether my current "I'll handle it" attitude is really that much of a positive thing...

I'm not sure if he realises how much that statement hurt me. I'm not sure I realise it too, hence the strangely light tone of this post (I think).

Another thing I thought about in Leadership is that, while there are no "perfect leaderships", there are "best-suited leaderships", by which each person has their own leadership style. BB is trying to promote "Servant Leadership", yet some of the people within the company seem to be doing anything but such.

Perhaps some people within this world are more suited to the "Pushy Leadership" style, by which they become so focused on their goals their very prescence is like a vacuum cleaner. (i.e. they are so dense that they consume themselves and become black holes xD). Or rather, they are focused and slightly closed-minded, but this makes them extremely stable and somewhat inspiring, especially if said person has charisma or ability to supplement it.

So what we have here are people who drift with the tide (free and such) and anchors, who hold them down. While some may resent this sudden imposing of restraint on their freedom, more and more I feel that most of the world actually enjoys "being controlled". Simply put, a Leader is someone who can what his Followers feel secure.

This can be done through many ways. Being certain, being sure; being supportive, always there. Being unimposing to his friends, yet fearsome to his foes. Being popular, being powerful, being rich.

All these grant a sort of "stability" to the life of the leader and the lives of the people around them. Which falls me back to the point: Is a leader merely a stubborn man, abeit a charismatic one?

Certainly some have excellent ideas. Yet if they have not the stubborness to pursue it, they would not have reached so far...

Perhaps we as students and philosophers(somewhat) should focus less on identifying our doubts and more on our ideas? Sometimes hard-headed stubborness is all you need to get things done. To quote Crawshaw:

"You just need to [i]sound[/i] like you know what's going on."

The Pillar of Wood

In the centre of the circle grew a great Oak Tree,
Tall and strong for all to see.
The forest and soil so nutured its growth
Sunlight and rain its bread and wine-
until the day the builders came,
Stripping branches to build their frames;
Leaves to paper, sticks to flame.

Around the Tree, a temple rose
Nothing was spared as fate had chose;
Its bark was stripped, its surface wrought
To form the centre of what was sought-
A Pillar it was, from something small
A pillar that held the hallowed halls,
Painted roofs now littered with Leaves
of the other workmen, other trees.

The insects sapped its bark and bone
leaving the Oak to dry and hard,
Its trunk was rigid, its bark was stone
To work the works and guard the guards;
To become a Pillar of what once had life
that gave its life to protect more lives,
To become the shelter that gives them proof
against the rain, and heaven's cries.
To become a Pillar, centre of all
silent to prayers and fortune's call,
While outside the facade stood
Hiding a centre of ancient wood.

More pillars were rose, forged of stone;
Iron and silver and fine-smithed gold
To support the roof, now heavy with leaves
Yet their touch was icy cold.

The crowds do come, to pray for home
Pray for the leaves their branches grow-
Their eyes raise up to see the dome
And hence ignore the pillars so.

Silently now, in its humble abode
Surrounded by tables, their surfaces old,
The pillar stands, remembering days
where it once did grow, with leaves of praise;
Reached for the sun, and moon and stars
Reached for the clouds still way up far-

Now its roots are dead, its leaves long lost
The temple is all it ever was;
Yet still it holds the roof up proud
Quiet as always, within the crowd.

Friday, March 21, 2008

A strangely poetic rant (at least at the back)

So many things I want to say, yet there doesn't seem to be enough words for it.

I think I can split my thoughts roughly into: Spiritual, Social and Self

Today marks the end of REW, religious emphasis week. My current stance on religion seems to be agnostic, in that I'm still half-convinced, or fully-convinced but just not speaking alot. (Some things about religion bother me alot)

Two parts: The pastor speaking and my own stance

The pastor who spoke this week was be frank, I did not feel inspired. At least, not by his arguments. His song and message, and overall words were indeed, good. But somehow I felt he failed to answer the very questions he asked.

Is Jesus the only way? The Christians say a hearty yes. Yet he contradicts himself, somewhat, but saying that God will reward each man unto his deeds. What does this mean? I'm very confused. Somehow I feel that this year's REW only managed to make me even more unsure of where I stood. If anything, its only positive fact is that it got me thinking about religion again.

Harsh words, I know.

Perhaps someday I'll find a proper answer. The best one I have now: All roads lead to Rome, and all paths lead to Christ. (Unless walked the opposite way, but enough of that). The defination of "Good" and "Evil" and what's right and wrong are too ambiguous to use as motivators for belief anymore. All I can say for myself is; To work towards my goals, to follow the Bible the best I can. I am not a speaker, I cannot bring myself to charm or convince people. Some would say God will empower me, yet I'm not sure when God will do so. So until someday, I shall endevour to keep an open mind, and keep working at what I do. Sometimes the subtle approach is best.

Social, I've heard the rumours. Or rather, the facts. Anyone who has been in my school should know by now who got sacked and for what reason. It disturbs me, greatly. Mainly for proving Tim Liang's point about how politics is everywhere, and also because now we have lost something we should not have lost. What is this pride, that it turns talent away? From what I saw, he made criticisms that all had felt. Criticism, especially constructive ones, do not come from nothing. If someone feels a problem exists, either he does not know enough about the situation (Something I highly doubt) or the problem really does exist. Heck, I'm not even sure if what he said could even be considered a problem.

In the end it really saddens me. Really. That people cannot be accepting. I suppose its understandable, being that as self-centred species, we wish everyone to be like ourselves. We wish the world to bend to us, not bend to the world. Our development as a species created such. A fox grows a coat to survive the winter, but men will dig a house out of the snow and light a fire. One manipulates himself, the other manipulates others. Domination is almost unavoidable in the latter, but is it something to be proud about?

Just because you have the power to control others does not mean you have power itself. The brain is useless without the body. Leaders and shepards must realise that, without their followers, they are [i]nothing[/i].

Pardon this selfish sheep's reflections, but a voice for the following is needed. People pay too much emphasis on leaders and politics now.

It is like a shepard that knows exactly how to prevent his rivals (other shepards) from breaking into the pens, but does not know the very basics of sheepcare.

And in the case of talent, we must remember: Talent does not need you. You need talent.

Hopefully he is in a better, less sensitive place now.


Or rather, how much am I worth? How much can I say for the value of my words? The above two posts for instance, were written somewhat with the "high and might" tone, (I think), but does that make me high and mighty? What is there to say what wisdom I think I have is just self-delusion?

So i've come to a conclusion, of sorts

I'm a bad judge of people. And the last person i should EVER be allowed to judge, is myself.

I cannot claim to know what I do is right, since the question of right is unknown to me. But somewhere, out there, I believe there lies people wiser or smarter than me.

And so I place this judgement in their hands. I shall continue with what I do, and strive in what I seek. Should I go wrong, well, all I can say is:

I'm counting on you.

I'm counting on my friends to hold me back. Because if there's one thing I can trust, is that I picked the right friends. Hopefully, if someday I start to screw up, go insane, or even plot the destruction of the world (which actually sounds quite fun), I sincerly hope for you guys to keep me in check.

Its a lot to ask for. I know.


Okay, thats the rant done and done. On to more interesting things

Could we see the world as a horse, and the people riding a carrige?

To the people, looking at the horse, we appear not to move. There is no progress, no action, for the distance between the horse and the carriage remains forever alike.

Yet if a person were to get off the wagon, and run, he would either see the carriage slowing down behind him or speeding up in front (depending on his ability) and so these people are the pioneers and historians of our world.

But because they are no longer on the carriage, they must strive on their own to keep up. Their actions and movements are no longer balanced by the horse. A person on the carriage can run around inside, but he/she will still be moving with the carriage.

A person outside must be careful not to trip.

I'm probably counted as a person on the carriage with a pair of binoculars, in that I am currently observing a bunch of slightly insane runners chasing after us, while looking at the even more insane sprinters dashing ahead.

Someday they will get tired, and slow down. Someday those at the back will catch up. And when we're all together again, we will board the carriage, have a rest and a drink. Catch up on times

And when they are rested, they return to their runs. Until they get tired, and return once again.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008


Sometimes we need to sit down. And focus.

So I'm starting out with this rant about myself. If you're looking for insightful views, get an x-ray.

Alright, here we go:

I am ashamed for my guilt, and guilty of my shame. Today I was frustrated. Very frustrated. And so I took it out on the people around me.

Which was to say, of course, most of my friends.

Sometimes I wonder why people bother sticking with me. I have random spasms, walk funny (not the first time someone told me that), am not as smart, quick, witty or otherwise as alot of the OTHER people (who don't spasm, crack stupid jokes, or attempt to annoy the hell out of everyone). And I take my problems out on my friends just like a martial artist takes his fists out on blocks of wood. (I.E. Very Loudly)

So I guess I just have to say three words.


And Thanks.

For sticking with a temperamental emotional bastard whose main use is making everything 10 times more complicated then they are.

Still, if theres one good thing I can say about myself, its that I'm not a backstabber. Nope. Backstabbing is for pansies. Real men hit other areas...

Now for a poem. xD


A Matchstick with Three Goals

We walk the coals in thinning smoke
And through the smoke I saw three paths;

One path down, so sat a child,
Playing with matches like he shouldn't do
Small sparks delighted - his eyes were wild
With the glow reflected within their pools.

Two paths down, a wife still cooking
the meal for her husband, warming the stove
to warm their hearts, their minds at home-
As the fireplace warms the fire-placed doves

Three paths down, a house was burning-
Windows alight with fear and flame,
People were screaming, the heat consumed
The weak and strong, just the same;

Same as the embers within our souls
Same as the glowing of still-warm coals
Same as the torches, wielded in runs
Same as the candlesticks paper-men shun.

From one comes all, just the same.


Promethian Society

I read about the age
Where men gained their Fire
For the first time, and lost their fear
Of the Dark that held them back.

Now they have the sun
To hold within their hands,
They feared no more the stars;
And instead, to surprass the heavens
They remade the works of God.

Consume our-selves to fight our foes
Consume our-lives to light our goals--

The fire we wield; our blessing, our curse
The fire we light--
For better, or worse.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Some words and Poem: The Cloth Covers

Meh, enough with the random rant postings

Hols are over. Back to school and work and death and toll and taxes.

There are only two things that are infinite: The Universe and Human Stupidity. And some say we aren't sure about the Universe...

Read that quote somewhere. Hehe, I wonder how much of it is true?


The Cloth Covers

Spun of silk, soft yet strong
the cloth-covers woven
from logic, reason, soft yet strong
Now drenched with sweat
from long-termed wearing;
Some walk blind now, the cloth covers
their eyes, they see only their feet
Instead of the promise of paths before
Their every move calculated, still in fear
of the unseen; the cloth covers
their minds, unable to know
or understand
why the others walk so freely
guided by their light.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Random thoughts

Few things I should say

Firstly, you know about the question: "What is the meaning of Life?"

Its grammatically incorrect. There's an 's' missing in there.

Second, if you read my msn, theres the case of Freedom. Which i amusingly realised can be arranged with an extra 'o' to spell Free Doom. I wonder...

Anyway, this post is to thank 1 person for a major emo session, as well as to ponder on the question of appearance versus structure. And perhaps a little on leadership...

You know when you build a tower, you make the skeleton first, before you add the facade? But a tower is not composed purely of a skeleton, nor is it entirely a facade. A tower as a skeleton does not appeal, while a tower without a skeleton falls.

I suppose the same can be said in life. I've always been an advocater of "being true in our work", but more and more I find appearances are needed. Mainly cause people these days always downgrade everything they see by one.

So if you drew a good picture, it becomes an average picture. Unless you advertise, which cancels each other out. At least, this is the case I find with most people.

Also, I find that the statement "The one who claims the most, ends up with the most claim" rather accurate. This is somewhat linked to the other phrase "Whoever crows the loudest and longest gets the prize." Perhaps I should become a bloody pushy bastard and start INSISTING on my way? Because people bloody push me around with THEIR way.

When you become an integral part of something, no one appreciates you any longer. Its because you've become so much a part of thier lives, they take you for granted that you'll always be there. In a way, that in a sense is a form of recognition. Its the kinda recognition I want., but if only it was a little more glorious...

Question here is: Do you want to get things done. Leaders fight for the highest post, but a pile of shepards with no sheep are essentially useless, until one of the shepards realises he can start taxing the other shepards for not having sheep. Then the whole cycle starts again.

I much rather be a sheep, thank you very much Adam Khoo, and pick my leaders. What people fail to realise nowadays is that there isn't a shortage of leaders. Its the good ones that are few and far between.

Good leaders should have good followers. And so I shall kill my pride, and jeer at all you leaders out there: Do a bloody good job okay? Cause I'm putting my life in your hands.

People lead because its the optimal position. They can be who they are, and people follow them for who they are. Its the best point between inner and outer fulfillment. When your goals become other's goals, it becomes so much easier to accomplish them.

Yet alot of people never think to follow. They never ask themselves "What makes a good follower? Someone who blindly listens?" No. A good follower is one who helps the leader, who works WITH the leader and not AGAINST him or BEHIND him. A good follower is like an adviser, a partner, watching the leader's back, and in his own way, becoming a leader as well.

Why settle for second best? Because you'll kill each other for first. That's why.

Friday, March 14, 2008


The time has come
Goodbye, take care;
for the bottle is empty
and the cupboard is bare.

The shops are opened
the fields are green,
the hoe is ready
The pigs are weaned.

The books are dusty
the library is cold,
The fire is dying
The firewood, old.

Spring has come
for us to train,
And for the farmer to plant
his crops again.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Water on the Ropes

The rocks waits, lonely
bearing the river's flow,
alone it sits, weary
the current takes its toll.

The hide cracks - Danger!
Now more pebbles come
to fill the cracks of a stranger;
Against the tides they won.

The sky beats down its bullets
Like insults strike our face,
An arm, a shout - a smile perhaps?
Shall see us through this race.

The rapids churn beneath our feet,
we bound the logs as one
With sticks and stones, that in despair
our souls shall never drown.

The sea is mighty in its expanse
Its waves may sink my boat,
yet anchors on three other rafts
shall keep us all afloat.

The waters bind us--
Though blood be thick;
Like the river that brought us
together, we seek
To be like the droplets in the storm of rain,
Small, yet powerful-
Our obstacles slain.

For waters have bound us
from beginning to end;
that no matter the task
we shall face them - together
as brothers
as friends.


Primer's Challenge was a blast. Honestly, I had so much fun and learnt quite a bit from that trip.

Iniative is an important factor in getting anything done. Determination too.

Never hesitate, that's what I learnt.

On a different note...

The bottom two poems are linked together. I wrote them parallel to each other at about the same time.

In a way they reflect the good and bad points of my primer's challenge, from the high points of fun, to the low points of absolute emo. (-274 degrees despair)

The stillest waters reflect the clearest pictures.


Tuesday, March 11, 2008


We smile and laugh
and cry together - yet
There is a wall between us;
the path we met.

Was it fate that brought
the black sheep away,
from its herd to the goats
where it wished to stay?

Was it chance that taught
the monkey to mime,
the clothes of people
the words of rhyme?

It splashes in the water
not knowing how to swim,
while others stream before it
on whimsy, on whim;
To remind it, remember
no matter whom its friends,
It still can't - and never
Shall be truely
One of them.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008


Every sailor has a dream
to sail the ocean blue,
They pack their bags, wave goodbye
set ship on a pirate crew;

Every sailor has a dream
to seek great treasures wide,
across the oceans, across the sky
Thier comrades by their side;

Every sailor has a dream,
to have the world to roam
yet each day, as they sleep
they still have dreams of home.

Monday, March 3, 2008

Over Shadows and In the Dark

Maturity of Thought
and of Intelligence,
Artistic Skills and Creativity;
Level of Humor, Level of Interest
Level of Dedication and of Service.

Faith and Trust.
Hope and Love.

Ability to help those in need,
Ability to help self.

Perhaps there are more,
One could go on,


Every home, every shelter,
Every ideal and idea
Every story and song;

Already has a Champion.

I suppose I'll just watch the Champions
run, With their torches ablazing,
And take their timings at the end of the race
So that when the crowd's cheers do cease,
And the fanfares die down soft;

I can just go up to them
With their times and records,
And a cup of water
And just say to them:

"Good Job"

And hopefully,

They might still remember me,
Or take my words to heart.

And perhaps,

They might reply:

"Thank You"


I looked at them, as still as stone
and watched the masters before us drone,
On and on! Why won't he cease
the hot sun tickled my aching feet

On and on! Endless shouts
of words few boys could understand,
Stand up! Stand still! Oh how we prayed
for God to shade our grassy land.

Perhaps he was busy, the sun blazed on
Left and right the soldiers dropped,
Tired and sweaty, they stumbled back
While their friends stood on as still as tack.


What made them stand? I do not know
Love for friendship or for show?
It was not the commander, not the praise
nor the hours to their name;

What made them stand? A promise they say,
A promise as binding as night and day
That bids the sun, that bids the sea
That brings us order in community.

It is the first and foremost, the most base of truths
The backbone of knights, the trainer of youth
the death of passion, the tempering flame
it guides us on; this metal frame.


Still they stand, nor weary nor faint
Still the audience is forced to wait
What made them stand? These statued saints
Stand on now for standing's sake.

Sunday, March 2, 2008


I feel strangely tired
Or weary
Or just plain sick of life

Its like nothing else matters
Nothing else
Nothing else

Its like my hands can craft
only nothing from nothing
like that Old King said
before he went mad

I try to craft stories and wonder
I try to craft them all


Somehow, somehow, the words don't flow
from the head to the pen I grip

Somehow, somehow, I cannot draw
I cannot create the work of art
that my conscience demmands so
the pictures fade

Slowly away.

Saturday, March 1, 2008

Whispers and Tears

I sit by the window, and watch the sky
Watch the rain as the wind blows by,
Strange thing, Rain, of water and sea
Strange thing, Wind, just air we see

Yet what of Air and what of Water,
That we name then so? I see no bother
To call a cat what a cat is not
To call shield an iron pot
Mere meanings, thats all;
Mere words that fall
from lips unknowing
from tongues a throwing
That is all;

Yet still I feel the cooling Wind
Yet still I hear the gentle Rain,
And call them not what merely seen
But rather, something more;

Whispers of Him who lies above,
Tears that rain when He sees us love
that fall on us each passing day
that carry the words we dare not say;
A voice, a whisper
A tear, a sigh
For the ones still seeking
For the ones still weeping
A tear, a sigh
That is all.