Often, we dellude ourselves into setting something as a goal, an end, whereas in fact, this goal might be better utilised as a route, a means. We set goals with a finite consequence when we have been blessed with the capability to achieve something with an eternal effect. I think it pays to set a goal as a goal, not a means. Why? Because when you set a goal as a goal, there are various routes that will take you there. When you set a means as a goal, you are limiting where you will end up. One destination can have several routes, but one route will only take you to one place.
What am I getting at? I don't want to bore you. Figure it out.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
The Last One Hoping
I drown in defeating injustices,
In a dark alley of despair, I am groping,
To give up now, I do not have the heart,
Though it pains me to be the last one hoping.
The world has not yet rejected me,
Not yet deemed my hope as betrayal,
But I reproach myself for feeling so safe,
For I no longer see my people as loyal.
I am alone, except for the one I await,
Guilt is bound to each complaint of my heart,
The anguish to relieve his solitude dawns,
As every pain and sorrow, to him, I impart.
My world has become my enemy now,
And I wonder if I induced my own war,
But it is too late to drown in these thoughts,
So I keep grip on an ark that will guide me ashore.
The ark is luminous, worn, and silent,
And I see we are together in denying despair,
So unlike the world, though we are in it,
With me, their cures for evil they share.
My awaited one, he is on this ark,
Though not in person, but his heart is here,
So I hold on while I wait for their son,
My saviour, he, who is far but near.
On this ark, I see many others,
Who, like me, were in their world, coping,
And now, on this ark, I am given glad tidings,
That I wasn't, in fact, the last one hoping.
In a dark alley of despair, I am groping,
To give up now, I do not have the heart,
Though it pains me to be the last one hoping.
The world has not yet rejected me,
Not yet deemed my hope as betrayal,
But I reproach myself for feeling so safe,
For I no longer see my people as loyal.
I am alone, except for the one I await,
Guilt is bound to each complaint of my heart,
The anguish to relieve his solitude dawns,
As every pain and sorrow, to him, I impart.
My world has become my enemy now,
And I wonder if I induced my own war,
But it is too late to drown in these thoughts,
So I keep grip on an ark that will guide me ashore.
The ark is luminous, worn, and silent,
And I see we are together in denying despair,
So unlike the world, though we are in it,
With me, their cures for evil they share.
My awaited one, he is on this ark,
Though not in person, but his heart is here,
So I hold on while I wait for their son,
My saviour, he, who is far but near.
On this ark, I see many others,
Who, like me, were in their world, coping,
And now, on this ark, I am given glad tidings,
That I wasn't, in fact, the last one hoping.
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