if a thing could reach its zenith, I believe it must be feelings, of which new heights could not be scaled if there remained no saving grace. how rich it was when the morning dew brought the first rainbow to the moist grass fields. how fresh it was when the snow from the ice mountain melted and flowed into the many streams. I wished I was young again, to experience anew the first blessings and the first love. It is, however, impossible, to even believe for a second that I can relive the experience. It is really a grave sin to think that way, being fully aware of the consequences of having a weak mind. I have no freedom to will, if it must be accepted that to will consists of being entirely free to do whatever I want. I am, but a free person born with chains, to live and fret living, the endless strife between freedom and bondage. There is no rest in this matter, for experience teaches me that to cling on to some past is like engulfing the future with darkness. This blight creates nothingness. And still the natural course of the human life is to live retrospectively, no matter how adventurous our hope for the future seems. so where does the free man find his freedom?
only in Christ,
when even the betraying feelings cannot lie to the burning bush that lights up the dark room but burns nothing. He is the first love and the finisher of that love. If it be so that feelings must fade, let me be reminded of the wondrous gift of silence, where irony works its strength and reveals everything and nothing. To acquire knowledge is to lose a part of me, where the acquisition of knowledge is troubled by the forgetful memory. It is, however, a miracle that I remember my salvation, in the days of treachery and transgressions, where all else fails, fails you and you fail. I can betray myself. I can hate myself. But grace cannot and will not. Forgive myself for being so naive. My strength is weak. And so the knowledge/suffering that matures me is so essential to my upbringing. Love, my friend and reader, is not a thing we can easily boast of having. Till this day, I believe that I love no one and the closest I come to is 'love myself'. Love, if it so perplexes me to define, is only united in name and so often we fail the test of love. If it should encourage you, dear Christian, love, if it so manifests in you, is but the consequence of the first love wrought in you by the blood of Christ. To be loved first beats having to love someone as much as yourself. How you deal and manifest this love, my fellow fool, is another matter altogether. I can only remind myself that honesty is but one of the many first steps we must take. I am undone, utterly deconstructed by the honesty of the gospel. So let it be so, that every knowledge I acquire be like a child. A child constantly dying and resurrecting. I face old wounds and I cut them again so that each new experience sheds new knowledge. The child can love his or her image more than the things he or she will eventually hate. I am a child, wanting to be 33 years old.


if it must be so, it must be so. I feel breathless for some action to be done.