Breeze

Breeze
Is tired after a day's work of moving past vehicles and annoyingly flipping newspaper pages of men in suits to prove its existence
So it stopped and did what it like best

Moving through the sliding young girl's happy hair dancing down the slide
Pushing & teasing little hydrogens bumping each other in red balloons
Playing catch with the wagging tongue of the dog out the car window
And hugging the old widow sitting alone in the fading garden

And after the long day's gone
It turns back into wind, sweeps clean the streets of its dead leaves
Terrorises the dark, closes the windows of forgetful minds
and lulls little children to sleep
with its gentle lullaby.

The Curator and the baker's son (rewrite) 01

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in a small town. This is an old town full of old and beautiful buildings, and many people would come by the bakery, large library and famous art museum.  Everyday, something special will happen in this small town. And everyday, only one special thing will happen, be it a hot air balloon carnival, town parade, bakery day, or something so special that it only happens to a small group of people, or just between two persons.

Today, I am telling you a story of something really special that happens to two persons, between a young boy and an old man. This young boy is the baker's son, a young nine year-old, blond-haired boy, slightly taller than two long French loaves stacked up together, but much fatter. The boy is so well-mannered with a gentle voice, but don't be fooled, he is very, very naughty. This old man is very, very old. He is so old that when he coughs, he make loud whizzing coughs that would frighten the birds sleeping in the tree. And he walks with a very, very old wooden walking stick which makes a "thump... thump" sound wherever he goes. Don't be surprised that every people in this small old town knows him, because he is the curator of the famous museum.

So why is this museum famous? It is a large museum with so many things that it would take days just to finish seeing it, but that is not why it is famous. I would love to tell you but there are so many other long stories to it, but let me give you a hint - It is a magical museum.

Flame of God - prayer

From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the Crucified
From all that dims Thy Calvary
O Lamb of God, deliver me.

Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire;
Let me not sink to be a clod;
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God

-Amy Carmichael