In Response to Rudyard Kipling’s

He spoke out of the days that passed,

“If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat these two imposters just the same;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run …”

I have responded out of the days that are,

“In God’s Almighty hand He holds each day,
“With Him a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day”.
If only I could wait upon His timing and let the people stew in their impatience.

Who said that lie, when being masqueraded, can save the aching heart from biting pain?
For it is truthful word spoken in love that heals the deepest of our hurting wounds.

And, hey, when pulling out hair from your head – how many tensions were resolved by anger?
We pile the burning coals to find out that we set on fire our own belongings!
And nothing can quench the flame.

Many of us self-exalted and self-worshiped, confident smart Alex, will be surprised that
“God catches the wise in their craftiness and knows that the thoughts of the wise are futile.” But, nay, we keep on bathing in our own wisdom and understanding, selling it to others, who perish, thanks to our selfish gain.

While often dreaming of the distant heights we pass by, leaving unnoticed, precious moments: miss the joy over the first step of a baby, ignore the hurt that will leave the mark for the rest of one’s life and let go the sincere confession – dashing out reality and bargaining it for the vanity. And at the decline of our days, when the curtains are pulled down, on the death bed we count our “ifs” and “buts” to try to hold back the time and scream into the darkness, only in vain.

Man’s empty praise! Or is it? We dress in it and show in sparkly praise-robes, and try to contest whose is the longest, only in the race to fall on the ground with our bleeding nose!

Disaster comes and strikes us but only if we stand on a solid rock, will we emerge to overcome, to break through, and to see the rainbow after the severe storm.

Triumph and Disaster but neither, nor death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, no any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God.

At the appointed time neither my sympathizers nor my enemies will be present and I will have to give an account on my every thought, word and deed, and so I should keep my focus, and blow the dust from my eyes to keep on going on the ordained path.

What man’s life is but a mere breath, his days are but like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone and its place remembers it no more.
But it is only my Creator’s initiative that brings me into significance. Inspired by the Lover’s song – I can love, I can kiss until my lips burn and I can give until it hurts.
I catch the moment and walk through it on my toes …with the heart full of delight.