In the evening sun

I received a very special gift from my girlfriend, a limited edition indie poetic album by Dawn Fung signed & addressed to us :) 

This song is being played in the car, "Home with You", even as the idyllic piano and guitar intro is being played, something happened to me, something that hasn't happen in a long time, tears just welled up in my eyes, the sense of worth is being renewed and the longing for home, longing to say, to feel, to word my heart came back..

"Hold my hand through the valley of my years, 

wipe my tears with the story of your love.."

"Teacher, you who calm the storn

set the fire to my heart

light the way back home.."

Sometimes I don't know where I am now, but I know I am on the way home. As much as tired hands can hold or as much as a homesick heart could want to belong, I know that I am on my way home. 

Do you know my heart, do you ever hear my thoughts, do you really see me at my birth? The moment I opened my eyes or the first cry, are you really there? Have you thought of me on the cross, and bear my pain long before I knew? Show me again, your love, higher than the sky, deeper than the obscure heart, clearer than a spoken word. 

We need a lasting promise, remind us again. 

"Lay me down by your shoulder now to rest

Keep me warm when reason turns too cold

In worship, I'll adorn you with my praise

You rest me now, I'll be home again someday.."

:')

Thank you, for the hand to hold.

Lines

My days are like lines, lines that open itself when the alarm wakes, moving the boulder body while outside, always stringing tightly at the sides and loosely are the lines waiting for wet clothes' day hug. Lines of traffic anticipating your grimace either in your driving or mood swing, lines of choruses & beats bouncing in your ears as the outlines of your workplace becomes clearer and nearer. Lines of human robots waiting in line at the turnstile to work and the warm silver linings of the sky.

Coffee.