Mechanical Engineering
Emily Ra (written: October 16th, 2010)
As the random symbols shake my brain and
light reflected from the white paper penetrates my blood-shot eyes
Time.
Three. Thirty.. AM
Today.
And
Tomorrow.
And
The days after.
Too
Strangling my neck,
Weighing my shoulders,
and kneading my brain like a dough, the new equations
should climb up the black wall to my front in white gowns and dance
Such a joyful day today was.
And now another such joyful day has begun.
Always, without notice, the day
starts to brighten like that scalp massager that creeps up from the back of my head
As I, here in the forever North, wait for some warm sunlight,
He already begun his journey from the east and suddenly toward the West it disa-
-ppears, and comes back again from the East....
I. am. still in the North..
So hungry.
Ah, today, the ceiling looks especially comforting.
======ORIGINAL=======
기계 공학
어지러운 기호들이 나의 뇌를 흔들고,
흰 종이에서 반사되는 빛은 나의 눈을 충혈시킨다.
시간.
세시. 반. 이네
오늘.
도
내일.
도
모레.
도
나의 목을 조이는
나의 어깨를 누르는
나의 뇌를 조물락 조물락 거릴 새로운 공식들이
참 아름답게 내 앞의 까만 벽에 올라타 하얗게 춤을 추겠지
참 즐거운 하루 였다.
또 더욱 즐거운 하루는 시작 됬다
항상, 하루는 예고 없이
내 뒤통수를 치며 동쪽에서 부터 밝아오더라
난, 여기 영원한 북쪽에 따스한 햇살을 기다리고 있을때
그는 이미 동쪽에서 시작해 어느새 서쪽으로 재빨리 사라져 버
렸다가, 벌써 동쪽에서 다시 나오더라.
난, 아직 북쪽인데.
배가 고프다.
아, 오늘 따라 천장이 정말 평온해 보인다
Monday 27 February 2012
The Immigrant Family
The Immigrant Family
Emily Ra (Written: May 22nd, 2010 - still writing)
CH1: Year 2005.
“Well, it’s very sunny. That’s for sure.” Cathy cupped her right hand over her slightly frowning eyes.
“Yes, that’s why I am telling you: We have to go.” Jen, now somewhat irritated because she had repeated this several times, spat the words impatiently.
I don’t know how long they have been arguing like this. It didn’t matter, they won’t stop anyhow. Cathy and Jen have been arguing since even before they knew how to speak. So many disagreements and yet they sat there on the porch side by side, not much further than an inch apart from each other. They never came to a conclusion. Cathy was always so afraid of everything, slow and careful in taking every step. Jen was always fierce and restless. I don’t know how they got along, but they’ve been getting along for all their lives. Although that’s not much, just 13 years.
I just liked watching them. It was amusing; funny, even. How such different characters could be so compatible with each other- I wouldn’t ever know.
“Emily, come!” Mom called from the kitchen. She was always calling me. Everyone seemed to live in a two dimensional world, where each had a flat, predictable task to do everyday: Cathy doubting everything that she ever came across, Jen scolding every word that came out of Cathy’s mouth, and Mom always needing help.
“What?” I dragged the question hesitantly out from deep inside of me.
“Read this.” It was a letter from Jonathan’s school. It’s written in English. Mom needed me to read it and tell her that it was nothing- as always. “It must be important, it’s printed on orange paper.”
Doubting that anything written on that piece of paper had any importance in my life, I took the paper. I was slightly annoyed that I was doing a “Mom’s Job.” Why couldn’t she just learn English? Why should a parent depend on her child to do her task? I quickly skimmed through, radiating frustration at Mom. Mom didn’t seem to notice, she was just impatient that it took me so long to say anything about the letter. “It says, you need to come for a open house day at school.”
“Why, did Jonathan cause trouble? Is he not doing well?” She pecked questions at me like a woodpecker would. Obviously she didn’t understand what ‘open house’ meant.
“No!” Realizing that the response came a little too sharply, I softened my voice, “they just want you to come and watch how the classes work. You know, to know Jonathan’s doing well.” I glanced at Mom pitifully, as she took the orange paper back from my hands and nodded at it as though she understood everything written on it.
“Cathy! Jen!” Mom shouted, triumphant that she finally got the orange paper out of her head, “dinner!”
It wasn’t until Mom chased after them and shouted the same phrase three times, that Cathy and Jen finally considered dinner. They didn’t make it to the park. Where Jen was hoping to go play until they were hungry, or they saw the sun set. They were arguing for an hour and now the day was darkening around them, already. They hurriedly came inside, still arguing, as Mom was almost fuming.
When we settled to eat, Jonathan came home. He’d been out practicing something. Guitar, jujitsu, soccer-who knows, really? He was the fourth child of the house, and by the time he was born, everyone had their own, busy life to give him the attention he may have received if he was the first child like me. Although, all that attention was not that enjoyable at all, just burdensome, that’s all.
“Hey, Johnny” Cathy and Jen said at the same time, and started to giggle. Stopping their life-long arguments for a short while.
“Welcome home.” I said, flatly.
“Jonathan, eat!” Mom demanded.
“Wait, I need to take a shower first.” Jonathan went out of sight, and short while later, strong jet of water bouncing off the walls of the shower sounded. Must have been soccer. He always takes showers after soccer. Otherwise, he’s usually hydrophobic.
“Mom, this is too salty.” Cathy said, as she pushed away a plate of vegetables.
“I think it’s okay,” I shoved the chopstick-ful of the vegetables into my mouth.
“Just eat it.” Mom replied, too worn out to care.
“I think I’m allergic.” Cathy changed her complaint.
“No, you are allergic, and I am too! We are allergic to mushrooms.” Jen agreed. The dinner table being the only place they were each other’s back up. Everything they didn’t like-they were allergic to. The symptoms of allergy that Cathy had were backed up by Jen’s observation and vice versa.
“Fine, then don’t eat it.” Mom said, and took away their plate to dump the contents into my plate.
I growled. I only said they were okay, so that they would at least try it. Now, Mom thought I actually liked the plate. No matter, it’s only my health that is going to get better.
“Ew.” Cathy and Jen both turned their faces away. Jonathan came out of the shower without a shirt on.
“I don’t think I can eat anymore.” Cathy snapped.
“Then don’t” Jonathan, obviously embarrassed, hurried to the closet.
“Why do you always do that, you don’t live here by yourself you know, you always leave the toilet
seat up, too.” Jen complained
“Whatever, why can’t I do what I want in my house.” Poor Jonathan. He could never fit right in to this family. Ever since he was born, he was a sole walker. No one knew how to raise a boy. No one was a boy. He was just awkward every time he did anything, and Cathy and Jen are not the types to pass the opportunity to create a fuss.
“Mom, Jonathan keeps leaving the toilet seat up.”
“Why?”
“Because he thinks that he’s the only one who lives here”
“I don’t think that”
“That’s okay” Mom was getting annoyed. Whenever she wants to stop arguments, she speaks out these two futile words.
“No it’s not. He’s not the only one who lives here”
“Okay, Jonathan, stop talking. Eat.”
“No, but why do I have to? Why can’t they put the seat up when they use it? it’s not fair”
“I know. Cathy. Jen. Eat. Stop arguing”
Sometimes, I wonder. If mom really knows. If she understands, at all, what the issue is. I wonder if the same question would arise in a normal Korean home in Korea. I wonder if she knows, what ‘toilet seat’ is or what it means to put it down or up. I wonder if that’s the same custom in Korea. Maybe not.
Cathy and Jen never finished their meal.
CH2: 3 Years Later.
“Yes?” It was a call from Vancouver.
“Emily! It’s Mom. My lovely daughter!”
“Oh, Mom. Hi, what’s up?”
“Your sister, she got an A in French!”
“Oh, good. That’s very good.” I am busy. I am busy. I am busy. I am busy. I couldn’t utter out these simple words; for the fear of lengthening mother’s soliloque on how she is being mistreated by her kids whom she raised, alone, by sacrificing everything.
“So, your sister, she is not doing well in school.”
“What?” Which one was which?
“I told her not to go out so much. She doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true, we love you.”
“No, I am lonely. She likes her friends more.”
“Who?”
“Your sister!”
“Oh, my sister. I see. I will tell Cathy to study harder.”
“No, it’s Jen. Jen has a boyfriend.”
“Really? Wow. What kind of a person is he?”
“I don’t know, I’ve seen him once or twice, he greets well.”
Greeting. The single most important aspect of telling if that person is well brought up or not. If you greet well, then you automatically become the textbook case of a “Good Person” and if you don’t, no matter how good you may, really, be, you are rude and had terrible upbringing.
“Oh, that’s good.”
“Ya, oh, Annyunghaseyo~!!”
Mom hung up. as abruptly as the conversation began, with the greeting to a customer that just stepped into her shop, she was gone.
CH3: 2 Years Later, Summer
Our grand mother, from father’s side, is visiting Canada, all the way from Korea.
“Jonathan, you need to say your greetings Grandmother, you haven’t seen her for so many years!” Cathy and Jen were determined to make their brother be properly Korean-mannered.
“No, I don’t know what to say, I don’t really know her, I won’t understand if she says anything.”
“It doesn’t matter, its Grandma! You just say your greetings.”
It was only a few years ago, when Cathy and Jen used to run away from their Korean heritage. Now, they like to hang out with Korean newcomers who have the latest information on who’s who and what’s what.
Emily Ra (Written: May 22nd, 2010 - still writing)
CH1: Year 2005.
“Well, it’s very sunny. That’s for sure.” Cathy cupped her right hand over her slightly frowning eyes.
“Yes, that’s why I am telling you: We have to go.” Jen, now somewhat irritated because she had repeated this several times, spat the words impatiently.
I don’t know how long they have been arguing like this. It didn’t matter, they won’t stop anyhow. Cathy and Jen have been arguing since even before they knew how to speak. So many disagreements and yet they sat there on the porch side by side, not much further than an inch apart from each other. They never came to a conclusion. Cathy was always so afraid of everything, slow and careful in taking every step. Jen was always fierce and restless. I don’t know how they got along, but they’ve been getting along for all their lives. Although that’s not much, just 13 years.
I just liked watching them. It was amusing; funny, even. How such different characters could be so compatible with each other- I wouldn’t ever know.
“Emily, come!” Mom called from the kitchen. She was always calling me. Everyone seemed to live in a two dimensional world, where each had a flat, predictable task to do everyday: Cathy doubting everything that she ever came across, Jen scolding every word that came out of Cathy’s mouth, and Mom always needing help.
“What?” I dragged the question hesitantly out from deep inside of me.
“Read this.” It was a letter from Jonathan’s school. It’s written in English. Mom needed me to read it and tell her that it was nothing- as always. “It must be important, it’s printed on orange paper.”
Doubting that anything written on that piece of paper had any importance in my life, I took the paper. I was slightly annoyed that I was doing a “Mom’s Job.” Why couldn’t she just learn English? Why should a parent depend on her child to do her task? I quickly skimmed through, radiating frustration at Mom. Mom didn’t seem to notice, she was just impatient that it took me so long to say anything about the letter. “It says, you need to come for a open house day at school.”
“Why, did Jonathan cause trouble? Is he not doing well?” She pecked questions at me like a woodpecker would. Obviously she didn’t understand what ‘open house’ meant.
“No!” Realizing that the response came a little too sharply, I softened my voice, “they just want you to come and watch how the classes work. You know, to know Jonathan’s doing well.” I glanced at Mom pitifully, as she took the orange paper back from my hands and nodded at it as though she understood everything written on it.
“Cathy! Jen!” Mom shouted, triumphant that she finally got the orange paper out of her head, “dinner!”
It wasn’t until Mom chased after them and shouted the same phrase three times, that Cathy and Jen finally considered dinner. They didn’t make it to the park. Where Jen was hoping to go play until they were hungry, or they saw the sun set. They were arguing for an hour and now the day was darkening around them, already. They hurriedly came inside, still arguing, as Mom was almost fuming.
When we settled to eat, Jonathan came home. He’d been out practicing something. Guitar, jujitsu, soccer-who knows, really? He was the fourth child of the house, and by the time he was born, everyone had their own, busy life to give him the attention he may have received if he was the first child like me. Although, all that attention was not that enjoyable at all, just burdensome, that’s all.
“Hey, Johnny” Cathy and Jen said at the same time, and started to giggle. Stopping their life-long arguments for a short while.
“Welcome home.” I said, flatly.
“Jonathan, eat!” Mom demanded.
“Wait, I need to take a shower first.” Jonathan went out of sight, and short while later, strong jet of water bouncing off the walls of the shower sounded. Must have been soccer. He always takes showers after soccer. Otherwise, he’s usually hydrophobic.
“Mom, this is too salty.” Cathy said, as she pushed away a plate of vegetables.
“I think it’s okay,” I shoved the chopstick-ful of the vegetables into my mouth.
“Just eat it.” Mom replied, too worn out to care.
“I think I’m allergic.” Cathy changed her complaint.
“No, you are allergic, and I am too! We are allergic to mushrooms.” Jen agreed. The dinner table being the only place they were each other’s back up. Everything they didn’t like-they were allergic to. The symptoms of allergy that Cathy had were backed up by Jen’s observation and vice versa.
“Fine, then don’t eat it.” Mom said, and took away their plate to dump the contents into my plate.
I growled. I only said they were okay, so that they would at least try it. Now, Mom thought I actually liked the plate. No matter, it’s only my health that is going to get better.
“Ew.” Cathy and Jen both turned their faces away. Jonathan came out of the shower without a shirt on.
“I don’t think I can eat anymore.” Cathy snapped.
“Then don’t” Jonathan, obviously embarrassed, hurried to the closet.
“Why do you always do that, you don’t live here by yourself you know, you always leave the toilet
seat up, too.” Jen complained
“Whatever, why can’t I do what I want in my house.” Poor Jonathan. He could never fit right in to this family. Ever since he was born, he was a sole walker. No one knew how to raise a boy. No one was a boy. He was just awkward every time he did anything, and Cathy and Jen are not the types to pass the opportunity to create a fuss.
“Mom, Jonathan keeps leaving the toilet seat up.”
“Why?”
“Because he thinks that he’s the only one who lives here”
“I don’t think that”
“That’s okay” Mom was getting annoyed. Whenever she wants to stop arguments, she speaks out these two futile words.
“No it’s not. He’s not the only one who lives here”
“Okay, Jonathan, stop talking. Eat.”
“No, but why do I have to? Why can’t they put the seat up when they use it? it’s not fair”
“I know. Cathy. Jen. Eat. Stop arguing”
Sometimes, I wonder. If mom really knows. If she understands, at all, what the issue is. I wonder if the same question would arise in a normal Korean home in Korea. I wonder if she knows, what ‘toilet seat’ is or what it means to put it down or up. I wonder if that’s the same custom in Korea. Maybe not.
Cathy and Jen never finished their meal.
CH2: 3 Years Later.
“Yes?” It was a call from Vancouver.
“Emily! It’s Mom. My lovely daughter!”
“Oh, Mom. Hi, what’s up?”
“Your sister, she got an A in French!”
“Oh, good. That’s very good.” I am busy. I am busy. I am busy. I am busy. I couldn’t utter out these simple words; for the fear of lengthening mother’s soliloque on how she is being mistreated by her kids whom she raised, alone, by sacrificing everything.
“So, your sister, she is not doing well in school.”
“What?” Which one was which?
“I told her not to go out so much. She doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true, we love you.”
“No, I am lonely. She likes her friends more.”
“Who?”
“Your sister!”
“Oh, my sister. I see. I will tell Cathy to study harder.”
“No, it’s Jen. Jen has a boyfriend.”
“Really? Wow. What kind of a person is he?”
“I don’t know, I’ve seen him once or twice, he greets well.”
Greeting. The single most important aspect of telling if that person is well brought up or not. If you greet well, then you automatically become the textbook case of a “Good Person” and if you don’t, no matter how good you may, really, be, you are rude and had terrible upbringing.
“Oh, that’s good.”
“Ya, oh, Annyunghaseyo~!!”
Mom hung up. as abruptly as the conversation began, with the greeting to a customer that just stepped into her shop, she was gone.
CH3: 2 Years Later, Summer
Our grand mother, from father’s side, is visiting Canada, all the way from Korea.
“Jonathan, you need to say your greetings Grandmother, you haven’t seen her for so many years!” Cathy and Jen were determined to make their brother be properly Korean-mannered.
“No, I don’t know what to say, I don’t really know her, I won’t understand if she says anything.”
“It doesn’t matter, its Grandma! You just say your greetings.”
It was only a few years ago, when Cathy and Jen used to run away from their Korean heritage. Now, they like to hang out with Korean newcomers who have the latest information on who’s who and what’s what.
Summer Song
Summer Song
Emily Ra (Written: December 11th, 2010)
The cool Summer breeze gently rings the wind chimes hanging out in the balcony. Baby Hannah giggles and claps at the Summer song. Her mother sits down with Bible at the corner of the dining table.
She smiles at her daughter. This is happiness, she thinks. After all that she has gone through in life. Finally, here was her moment. Her heart filled with joy and love.
Ebenezer, she told herself. Without the words she is holding in her two small life-roughened hands, she doesn’t know where her help would have come from. She is a saved soul. She knows.
All the deep gorges which the maelstroms in her life have impressed in her heart, just in this moment, is all taken away from her. She knows.
Emily Ra (Written: December 11th, 2010)
The cool Summer breeze gently rings the wind chimes hanging out in the balcony. Baby Hannah giggles and claps at the Summer song. Her mother sits down with Bible at the corner of the dining table.
She smiles at her daughter. This is happiness, she thinks. After all that she has gone through in life. Finally, here was her moment. Her heart filled with joy and love.
Ebenezer, she told herself. Without the words she is holding in her two small life-roughened hands, she doesn’t know where her help would have come from. She is a saved soul. She knows.
All the deep gorges which the maelstroms in her life have impressed in her heart, just in this moment, is all taken away from her. She knows.
Dream
Dream
Emily Ra (written: December 10th 2010)
It was too late by then. The big waves had already consumed the boy. Now, only the following smaller waves were cleaning up the debris to shore. Nothing. Just calmness. Like nothing had happened, the Ocean regained its serenity. The dumbfounded people just stood there. Not a single one was breathing for a moment.
Just a day later, the day went on as everyday should. People working, girls walking sided by side, giggling, cars honking, kids running, bigger-than-his-back backpack on his back bouncing, and one boy missing. He is not here, he doesn't partake in this day. No sound input, no smell, no touch, no visible input is put-in by the boy. He was just gone.
What was it that the boy was trying to do? He wanted to show people that he existed by erasing his existence. And for a moment of his disappearance into the sea, he really did exist more than others, his existence weighed down on everyone. Then, he did not exist anymore.
Loneliness. 'Tis what it was. He tried to fill up his emptiness by presenting the world with a small of emptiness. Empty hands that could not save. Empty mouths that could not breath. Empty eyes that couldn't show their empty hearts that couldn't feel. Empty brains that just couldn't remember, his emptiness was emptied out by us. For the moment of his edified existence, he was full. But then, so much emptier now than ever, his home was.
If God existed, God is Love therefore Love would have also existed. However, in the hearts of the men and women that occupied space in this place, God did not have a place, nor did Love. They only had colourless feelings and tasteless information that governed them. For if they knew Love, they would have known God, but they didn't. Thus they didn't realize that Love is patient, Love is kind. Nor that It does not envy, It does not boast, It is not proud. Not even that It is not rude, It is not self-seeking, It is not easily angered, It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
But now, love is defined by a mere feeling, a passing wind of passion, an indulgence of sort. Then, god didn't exist, nor was feared. The spiritless people lived as if they lived their lives. However, gripped with sense of insecurity, pulled to the ground by sense of loss, and punched in the stomach with the overwhelming sense of alone-ness, the lives they lived was not lives as live-ers, but lives as captives.
If Spirit lived, and we lived by the spirit, then we would have fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. We didn't. We didn't have fruits of any sort in our lives, therefore, we have lost the meaning of life. Sometimes wondered if that boy did really exist at all? Do I exist?
Reality became God. People stared in awe at reality. People feared reality. They didn't know, that reality was not really real. The reality that people called reality was nothing but a sheet of curtain to hide the truth. God, the Truth, was hidden. People said God is against reality, God is only for dreamers, God is only reliable until the point reality hits. What they didn't know, that God is Reality behind the curtain of reality. Only because God is behind the Now, people did not see God but only the Curtain.
But Faith. Faith was all anybody needed. Faith was everything. Faith was the only door out of the prison of life that we think we live but do not live. Now Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Only by Faith we may see what we don't see, and h9ope for what we can't hope. Only by Faith may we live as conquerors as we should have been not as slaves of Now.
If the creation knew the creator, then it will know its created purpose. When we forgot that God is the Creator, we forgot that we are the Creation. Consequently, we forgot our purpose. The purpose of the creation of the creation that is us, was to rejoice in the Creator that created us to rejoice in God. If we knew Love, we have the Spirit, and thus we receive Faith through the Spirit, then we would have joy.
We are happy. Sometimes sad. Sometimes angry, sometimes frustrated. Why? Because we don't have. We don't have the means to be happy all the time. Because we don't know what to be happy about. But God. God is our joy, and God is our glory. If God is God, then also our joy and glory, then our joy is God and our glory is God. Never fading. Never weak. Never changing. God gives to the one that asks. And we do not have because we do not ask.
The boy was loved. So was everyone. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believed in him shall not perish but have eternal life. We did not believe in God. We did not believe in his Love. We did not believe in the Son. We chose not to be loved. We chose not to be saved. We chose to die. We didn't know. Because we didn't see. Because we didn't have Faith. Because we didn't ask. Because we didn't believe.
Then if only everyone believed, everyone would be loved, and every one would be saved. Then everyone would have a purpose, everyone would have joy, everyone would have love. Why then, is everyone still complaining about how meaningless his existence is? When only by belief the Curtain is removed?
Then the boy woke up from his sleep. He looked up at his dark room that he had been sitting in for the past hours. He looked at the emptiness of the dark room, the darkness of it which made him feel powerless and insignificant.
Then he had hope.
Emily Ra (written: December 10th 2010)
It was too late by then. The big waves had already consumed the boy. Now, only the following smaller waves were cleaning up the debris to shore. Nothing. Just calmness. Like nothing had happened, the Ocean regained its serenity. The dumbfounded people just stood there. Not a single one was breathing for a moment.
Just a day later, the day went on as everyday should. People working, girls walking sided by side, giggling, cars honking, kids running, bigger-than-his-back backpack on his back bouncing, and one boy missing. He is not here, he doesn't partake in this day. No sound input, no smell, no touch, no visible input is put-in by the boy. He was just gone.
What was it that the boy was trying to do? He wanted to show people that he existed by erasing his existence. And for a moment of his disappearance into the sea, he really did exist more than others, his existence weighed down on everyone. Then, he did not exist anymore.
Loneliness. 'Tis what it was. He tried to fill up his emptiness by presenting the world with a small of emptiness. Empty hands that could not save. Empty mouths that could not breath. Empty eyes that couldn't show their empty hearts that couldn't feel. Empty brains that just couldn't remember, his emptiness was emptied out by us. For the moment of his edified existence, he was full. But then, so much emptier now than ever, his home was.
If God existed, God is Love therefore Love would have also existed. However, in the hearts of the men and women that occupied space in this place, God did not have a place, nor did Love. They only had colourless feelings and tasteless information that governed them. For if they knew Love, they would have known God, but they didn't. Thus they didn't realize that Love is patient, Love is kind. Nor that It does not envy, It does not boast, It is not proud. Not even that It is not rude, It is not self-seeking, It is not easily angered, It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
But now, love is defined by a mere feeling, a passing wind of passion, an indulgence of sort. Then, god didn't exist, nor was feared. The spiritless people lived as if they lived their lives. However, gripped with sense of insecurity, pulled to the ground by sense of loss, and punched in the stomach with the overwhelming sense of alone-ness, the lives they lived was not lives as live-ers, but lives as captives.
If Spirit lived, and we lived by the spirit, then we would have fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. We didn't. We didn't have fruits of any sort in our lives, therefore, we have lost the meaning of life. Sometimes wondered if that boy did really exist at all? Do I exist?
Reality became God. People stared in awe at reality. People feared reality. They didn't know, that reality was not really real. The reality that people called reality was nothing but a sheet of curtain to hide the truth. God, the Truth, was hidden. People said God is against reality, God is only for dreamers, God is only reliable until the point reality hits. What they didn't know, that God is Reality behind the curtain of reality. Only because God is behind the Now, people did not see God but only the Curtain.
But Faith. Faith was all anybody needed. Faith was everything. Faith was the only door out of the prison of life that we think we live but do not live. Now Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Only by Faith we may see what we don't see, and h9ope for what we can't hope. Only by Faith may we live as conquerors as we should have been not as slaves of Now.
If the creation knew the creator, then it will know its created purpose. When we forgot that God is the Creator, we forgot that we are the Creation. Consequently, we forgot our purpose. The purpose of the creation of the creation that is us, was to rejoice in the Creator that created us to rejoice in God. If we knew Love, we have the Spirit, and thus we receive Faith through the Spirit, then we would have joy.
We are happy. Sometimes sad. Sometimes angry, sometimes frustrated. Why? Because we don't have. We don't have the means to be happy all the time. Because we don't know what to be happy about. But God. God is our joy, and God is our glory. If God is God, then also our joy and glory, then our joy is God and our glory is God. Never fading. Never weak. Never changing. God gives to the one that asks. And we do not have because we do not ask.
The boy was loved. So was everyone. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believed in him shall not perish but have eternal life. We did not believe in God. We did not believe in his Love. We did not believe in the Son. We chose not to be loved. We chose not to be saved. We chose to die. We didn't know. Because we didn't see. Because we didn't have Faith. Because we didn't ask. Because we didn't believe.
Then if only everyone believed, everyone would be loved, and every one would be saved. Then everyone would have a purpose, everyone would have joy, everyone would have love. Why then, is everyone still complaining about how meaningless his existence is? When only by belief the Curtain is removed?
Then the boy woke up from his sleep. He looked up at his dark room that he had been sitting in for the past hours. He looked at the emptiness of the dark room, the darkness of it which made him feel powerless and insignificant.
Then he had hope.
Stitching Up My Heart.
Stitching Up My Heart.
Emily Ra
2012 Feb 25th
Thread by thread,
the memories.
Needle by needle,
the scars.
The things u and i shared:
embroidered permanant.
We were once connected u and i.
By this string.
Only the needle pulling thread
retells the old tale.
Take my memories,
colour by colour.
Mend my scars,
cross by cross.
The things left for me to bear:
remembered no more.
My tear soaked thread
has no one at its other end.
Only the needle knows its place
as it pulls thru only to cross and return.
Emily Ra
2012 Feb 25th
Thread by thread,
the memories.
Needle by needle,
the scars.
The things u and i shared:
embroidered permanant.
We were once connected u and i.
By this string.
Only the needle pulling thread
retells the old tale.
Take my memories,
colour by colour.
Mend my scars,
cross by cross.
The things left for me to bear:
remembered no more.
My tear soaked thread
has no one at its other end.
Only the needle knows its place
as it pulls thru only to cross and return.
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