Limerick of lost faith
2 years ago
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Oh God
come and save me. No one.......except You.
Forgive me,
Pull me up,
Clean my heart,
Renew and refresh it,
Come rain down on me.........
HEAL ME LORD!!!!!!!!! I AM SUCH A HYPOCRITE!!
ARGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Forgive me,
Pull me up,
Clean my heart,
Renew and refresh it,
Come rain down on me.........
HEAL ME LORD!!!!!!!!! I AM SUCH A HYPOCRITE!!
ARGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Searching for the Life We've Only Dreamed Of
Once upon a time there lived a sea lion who had lost the sea.
He lived in a country known as the barren lands. High on a plateau, far from any coast, it was a place so dry and dusty that it could only be called a desert. A kind of coarse grass grew in patches here and there, and a few trees were scattered across the horizon. But mostly, it was dust. And sometimes wind, which together make one very thirsty. Of course, it must seem strange to you that such a beautiful creature should wind up in a desert at all. He was, mind you, a sea lion. But things like this do happen.
How the sea lion came to the barren lands, no one could remember. It all seemed so long ago. So long, in fact, it appeared as though he had always been there. Not that he belonged in such an arid place. How could that be? He was, after all, a sea lion. But as you know, once you have lived so long in a certain spot, no matter how odd, you come to think of it as home.
There was a time, many years back, when the sea lion knew he was lost. In those days, he would stop every traveler he met to see if he might help him find his way back to the sea.
But no one seemed to know the way.
On he searched, but never finding. After years without success, the sea lion took refuge beneath a solitary tree beside a very small water hole. The tree provided refuge from the burning rays of the sun, which was very fierce in that place. And the water hole, though small and muddy, was wet, in its own way. Here he settled down and got on as best as he could.
Had you journeyed in those days through the barren lands, you might have seen the sea lion for yourself. Quite often in the evening, he would go and sit upon his favourite rock, a very large boulder, which lifted him off the burning sand and allowed him a view of the entire country.
There he would remain for hours into the night, silhouetted against the sky. And on the best nights, when the wind shifted to the east, a faint smell of salt air would come to him on the breeze. Then he would close his eyes and imagine himself once more at the sea. When he lay himself down to sleep, he would dream of a vast, deep ocean. Twisting and turning, diving and twirling, he would swim and swim and swim. When he woke, he thought he heard the sound of breakers.
The sea was calling to him.
The sea lion loved his rock, and he even loved waiting night after night for the sea breezes that might come. Especially he loved the dreams those memories would stir. But as you well know, even the best of dreams cannot go on, and in the morning when the sea lion woke, he was still in the barren lands. Sometimes he would close his eyes and try to fall back asleep. It never seemed to work, for the sun was always very bright.
Eventually, it became too much for him to bear. He began to visit his rock only on occasion. " I have too much to do," he told himself. " I cannot waste my time just idling about." He really did not have so much to do. The truth of it was, waking so far from home was such a disappointment, he did not want to have those wonderful dreams anymore. The day finally came when he stopped going to his rock altogether, and he no longer lifted his nose to the wind when the sea breezes blew.
The sea lion was not entirely alone in those parts. For it was there he met the tortoise. Now this tortoise was an ancient creature, so weathered by his life in the barren lands that at first, the sea lion mistook him for a rock. He told the tortoise of his plight, hoping that the wise one might be able to help him. "Perhaps," the tortoise mused, "this is the sea." His eyes appeared to be shut against the bright sun, but he was watching the sea lion very closely. The sea lion swept his flippers once against his side, gliding to the end of the water hole and back. "I don't know," he said. "It isn't very deep." "Isn't it?" "Somehow, I thought the sea would be broader, deeper. At least, I hoped so."
"You must learn to be happy here," the tortoise told him one day. "For it is unlikely that you shall ever find this sea of yours." Deep in his old and shriveled heart, the tortoise envied the sea lion and his sea. "But I belong to the sea. We are made for each other." "Perhaps. But you have been gone so long now, the sea has probably forgotten you." This thought had never occured to the sea lion. But it was true, he had been gone for a long, long time. "If this is not my home, how can I ever feel at home here?" the sea lion asked. "You will, in time." The tortoise appeared to be squinting, his eyes a thin slit. "I have seen the sea!" "Yes. Come closer," whispered the tortoise, " and I will tell you a secret. I am not a tortoise. I am a sea turtle. But I left the sea of my own accord, many years ago, in search of better things. If you stay with me, I will tell you stories of my adventures."
The stories of the ancient tortoise were enchanting and soon cast their spell upon the sea lion. As weeks passed into months, his memory of the sea faded. "The desert," whispered the tortoise, "is all that is, or was, or ever will be." When the sun grew fierce and burned his skin, the sea lion would hide in the shade of the tree, listening to the tales woven by the tortoise. When the dry winds cracked his flippers and filled his eyes with dust, the sea lion would retreat to the water hole. And so the sea lion remained, living his days between water hole and tree. The sea no longer filled his dreams.
It was in May that the winds began to blow. The sea lion had grown used to wind, and at first he did not pay much heed at all. Years of desert life had taught him to turn his back in the direction from which the wind came and cover his eyes with his flippers, so that the dust would not get in. Eventually, the winds would always pass.
But not this time. Day and night it came, howling across the barren lands. There was nothing to stop its fury, nothing to even slow it down. For forty days and forty nights the wind blew. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. The sea lion lifted himself to have a look around. He could hardly believed his eyes.
Every single leaf had been stripped from his tree. The branches that remained, with only a twig or two upon them, looked like an old scarecrow. And I do not need to tell you that there was no longer any shade in which to hide. But worse than this, much worse indeed, was what the sea lion saw next.
The water hole was completely dry.
Three weeks after the wind ceased to blow, the sea lion had a dream. Now, as I told you before, there were other nights in which he had dreamed of the sea. But those were long ago and nearly forgotten. Even still, the ocean that filled his dreams this night was so beautiful and clear, so vast and deep, it was as if he were seeing it for the very first time. The sunlight glittered on its surface, and as he dived, the waters all around him shone like an emerald. If he swam quite deep, it turned to jade, cool and dark and mysterious. But he was never frightened, not at all. For I must tell you that in all his dreams of the sea, he never before found himself in the company of other sea lions. This night there were many, round about him, diving and turning, spinning and twirling. They were playing.
Oh, how he hated to wake from that wonderful dream. The tears running down his face were the first wet thing he had felt in three weeks. But he did not pause even to wipe them away, he did not pause, in fact, for anything at all. He set his face to the east, and he began to walk as best a sea lion can.
"Where are you going?" asked the tortoise.
"I am going to find the sea."
( The Journey of Desire)
Time to start.
He lived in a country known as the barren lands. High on a plateau, far from any coast, it was a place so dry and dusty that it could only be called a desert. A kind of coarse grass grew in patches here and there, and a few trees were scattered across the horizon. But mostly, it was dust. And sometimes wind, which together make one very thirsty. Of course, it must seem strange to you that such a beautiful creature should wind up in a desert at all. He was, mind you, a sea lion. But things like this do happen.
How the sea lion came to the barren lands, no one could remember. It all seemed so long ago. So long, in fact, it appeared as though he had always been there. Not that he belonged in such an arid place. How could that be? He was, after all, a sea lion. But as you know, once you have lived so long in a certain spot, no matter how odd, you come to think of it as home.
There was a time, many years back, when the sea lion knew he was lost. In those days, he would stop every traveler he met to see if he might help him find his way back to the sea.
But no one seemed to know the way.
On he searched, but never finding. After years without success, the sea lion took refuge beneath a solitary tree beside a very small water hole. The tree provided refuge from the burning rays of the sun, which was very fierce in that place. And the water hole, though small and muddy, was wet, in its own way. Here he settled down and got on as best as he could.
Had you journeyed in those days through the barren lands, you might have seen the sea lion for yourself. Quite often in the evening, he would go and sit upon his favourite rock, a very large boulder, which lifted him off the burning sand and allowed him a view of the entire country.
There he would remain for hours into the night, silhouetted against the sky. And on the best nights, when the wind shifted to the east, a faint smell of salt air would come to him on the breeze. Then he would close his eyes and imagine himself once more at the sea. When he lay himself down to sleep, he would dream of a vast, deep ocean. Twisting and turning, diving and twirling, he would swim and swim and swim. When he woke, he thought he heard the sound of breakers.
The sea was calling to him.
The sea lion loved his rock, and he even loved waiting night after night for the sea breezes that might come. Especially he loved the dreams those memories would stir. But as you well know, even the best of dreams cannot go on, and in the morning when the sea lion woke, he was still in the barren lands. Sometimes he would close his eyes and try to fall back asleep. It never seemed to work, for the sun was always very bright.
Eventually, it became too much for him to bear. He began to visit his rock only on occasion. " I have too much to do," he told himself. " I cannot waste my time just idling about." He really did not have so much to do. The truth of it was, waking so far from home was such a disappointment, he did not want to have those wonderful dreams anymore. The day finally came when he stopped going to his rock altogether, and he no longer lifted his nose to the wind when the sea breezes blew.
The sea lion was not entirely alone in those parts. For it was there he met the tortoise. Now this tortoise was an ancient creature, so weathered by his life in the barren lands that at first, the sea lion mistook him for a rock. He told the tortoise of his plight, hoping that the wise one might be able to help him. "Perhaps," the tortoise mused, "this is the sea." His eyes appeared to be shut against the bright sun, but he was watching the sea lion very closely. The sea lion swept his flippers once against his side, gliding to the end of the water hole and back. "I don't know," he said. "It isn't very deep." "Isn't it?" "Somehow, I thought the sea would be broader, deeper. At least, I hoped so."
"You must learn to be happy here," the tortoise told him one day. "For it is unlikely that you shall ever find this sea of yours." Deep in his old and shriveled heart, the tortoise envied the sea lion and his sea. "But I belong to the sea. We are made for each other." "Perhaps. But you have been gone so long now, the sea has probably forgotten you." This thought had never occured to the sea lion. But it was true, he had been gone for a long, long time. "If this is not my home, how can I ever feel at home here?" the sea lion asked. "You will, in time." The tortoise appeared to be squinting, his eyes a thin slit. "I have seen the sea!" "Yes. Come closer," whispered the tortoise, " and I will tell you a secret. I am not a tortoise. I am a sea turtle. But I left the sea of my own accord, many years ago, in search of better things. If you stay with me, I will tell you stories of my adventures."
The stories of the ancient tortoise were enchanting and soon cast their spell upon the sea lion. As weeks passed into months, his memory of the sea faded. "The desert," whispered the tortoise, "is all that is, or was, or ever will be." When the sun grew fierce and burned his skin, the sea lion would hide in the shade of the tree, listening to the tales woven by the tortoise. When the dry winds cracked his flippers and filled his eyes with dust, the sea lion would retreat to the water hole. And so the sea lion remained, living his days between water hole and tree. The sea no longer filled his dreams.
It was in May that the winds began to blow. The sea lion had grown used to wind, and at first he did not pay much heed at all. Years of desert life had taught him to turn his back in the direction from which the wind came and cover his eyes with his flippers, so that the dust would not get in. Eventually, the winds would always pass.
But not this time. Day and night it came, howling across the barren lands. There was nothing to stop its fury, nothing to even slow it down. For forty days and forty nights the wind blew. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. The sea lion lifted himself to have a look around. He could hardly believed his eyes.
Every single leaf had been stripped from his tree. The branches that remained, with only a twig or two upon them, looked like an old scarecrow. And I do not need to tell you that there was no longer any shade in which to hide. But worse than this, much worse indeed, was what the sea lion saw next.
The water hole was completely dry.
Three weeks after the wind ceased to blow, the sea lion had a dream. Now, as I told you before, there were other nights in which he had dreamed of the sea. But those were long ago and nearly forgotten. Even still, the ocean that filled his dreams this night was so beautiful and clear, so vast and deep, it was as if he were seeing it for the very first time. The sunlight glittered on its surface, and as he dived, the waters all around him shone like an emerald. If he swam quite deep, it turned to jade, cool and dark and mysterious. But he was never frightened, not at all. For I must tell you that in all his dreams of the sea, he never before found himself in the company of other sea lions. This night there were many, round about him, diving and turning, spinning and twirling. They were playing.
Oh, how he hated to wake from that wonderful dream. The tears running down his face were the first wet thing he had felt in three weeks. But he did not pause even to wipe them away, he did not pause, in fact, for anything at all. He set his face to the east, and he began to walk as best a sea lion can.
"Where are you going?" asked the tortoise.
"I am going to find the sea."
( The Journey of Desire)
Time to start.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Nothing makes sense! Everything is nonsense. All is vanity!
What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?
People come, and people go, but still the world never changes.
All of life is far more boring than words could ever say. Our eyes and ears are never satisfied with what we see and hear.
What has been is what will be, and whats been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.
For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.
What has a man from all the toil and striving of a heart with which he toils beneath the sun?
For all his days are full of sorrow, and his work is a vexation. Even in the night his heart does not rest. This also is vanity.
All go to one place. All are from the dust, and to dust all return.
For who knows what is good for man while he lives his few days of vain life, which he passes like shadow? For who can tell man what will be after him under the sun?
Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad.
A sensible person mourns, but fools always laugh.
For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fools; this also is vanity.
Bits and pieces from here and there.
What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?
People come, and people go, but still the world never changes.
All of life is far more boring than words could ever say. Our eyes and ears are never satisfied with what we see and hear.
What has been is what will be, and whats been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.
For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.
What has a man from all the toil and striving of a heart with which he toils beneath the sun?
For all his days are full of sorrow, and his work is a vexation. Even in the night his heart does not rest. This also is vanity.
All go to one place. All are from the dust, and to dust all return.
For who knows what is good for man while he lives his few days of vain life, which he passes like shadow? For who can tell man what will be after him under the sun?
Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad.
A sensible person mourns, but fools always laugh.
For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fools; this also is vanity.
Bits and pieces from here and there.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
My friend
Sometimes I wonder why I must know you. You can be a good friend sometimes and yet, on the other hand, you make people feel like shit. Sometimes you can be such a pain in the ass. You are a wonderful friend to be with, I know that deep down in my heart. But sometimes it seems that the words that are uttered out from your mouth just does not.... I feel intimidated and inferior... I am such a fool to get into this mess. It shouldn't have started, not at all!. What was I even thinking. Emotions are so powerful sometimes. No matter how smart or how sensible you are, it consumes you. No, maybe I should not have known you... I want to flee, flee from this place, flee from reality. RUN! The time will come....I may not see you anymore after 11, 12, 13 months? Hopefully, by that time these memories will fade away. No, I don't want to treasure it. It hurts more than it heals. Yes I know I won't see you anymore after this period of time. We will not contact each other, no keeping in touch business. Yes we will go on with our lives, seeking new friends, new company. Getting away from those boring ones. And now I'm saying this in advance, because I wont have the chance to say it when the time comes - Farewell my friend. It was nice knowing you.
Yet for eternity we may meet again.
Yet for eternity we may meet again.
Friday, December 5, 2008
sigh
sighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsigh
sighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsigh
sighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsigh
Verse of the Day
Matthew 12 : 34
(second part of the verse)
Your words show what is in your hearts
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Guitar here I come.
sighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsigh
sighsighsighsighsighsighsighsighsigh
Verse of the Day
Matthew 12 : 34
(second part of the verse)
Your words show what is in your hearts
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Guitar here I come.
Monday, December 1, 2008
I am so
annoyed. Sometimes it's just so hard to love people.(No I'm not talking about the gua cintalu lucinta gua I want to live with you forever you will always be in my heart type of love) Especially those that somehow keep insisting on driving you mad and frustrating you with their slander. I wonder why. What drives them to continue hurting people? It's only just 2 weeks after camp, and I am already feeling the strains, the burdens of fulfilling my pledge I made in camp. Not that I thought it was going to be easy. It will never be easy. Why must it be this person? Of all people, this orang. But I guess...........No I don't know what to guess. I'm just flabbergasted. I'm ANNOYED!! WAIIIIIIIIIIIIII!?!?!? WAIIIIIIIIII GOD WAIIIIIIIIIIII?!?!?!?!?!
Who am I to question God. Sigh.
(The first of many emo posts)
Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DANIEL LEE!!!!!!! YOU SMELLY COW!!!!!! WOOOHOO
Who am I to question God. Sigh.
(The first of many emo posts)
Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DANIEL LEE!!!!!!! YOU SMELLY COW!!!!!! WOOOHOO
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