Up from the chair, Matthew arose, From the hum that held him in its throes. A vibrating seat that would not release, Bound to its fifteen minutes of peace.
It buzzed and it whirred, a steady refrain, A comfort, a habit, a gentle chain. Holding him there in its timed embrace, Keeping him fixed in one small place.
But something within said, “Now is the hour,” A whisper of freedom, a stirring of power. So up he stood, though the chair still called, No longer content to remain installed.
For life is not lived in cycles confined, Nor purpose fulfilled by a resting mind. Sometimes we rise, though comfort is near, To answer a call we’re meant to hear.
Ecclesiastes 9:10 (KJV) “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might…”
Violence begets violence—so cycles repeat, Old wounds reopen on every street. Anger returns where love once stood, And peace is buried beneath what “should.”
What must we do in a world torn apart, To mend the flesh and heal the heart? We cannot strike and hope for calm, Nor shout and pray for quiet balm.
We must begin where hatred ends With open hands and listening friends. With courage not to raise the fist, But build a world where none are missed.
We teach our children not with fear, But with the truth: all lives are dear. We speak for those who have no say, And walk with those cast far away.
Forgiveness is a heavy stone, But it can raise a brighter home. Justice wrapped in mercy’s thread Can weave new paths where blood once bled.
So what must we do? We choose to start With softer voice and braver heart. For peace is not a passive dream, But fierce and real—andours to redeem.
Sprinkles fly and glazes gleam, Like sugary clouds in a breakfast dream. From jelly-filled to old-fashioned rings, Today we praise these frosted things!
One bite in, the world feels right— Powdered joy and chocolate light. So grab a dozen, share the cheer, For Donut Day is finally here!
It’s April Fools’ Day—don’t be led astray, Believe nothing you hear, in no kind of way. Trust no fisherman, with tales long and bold, Their stories grow taller each time they’re told.
Today is a jest, but so is the year, Deception and laughter walk hand in hand here. Just like any other day, truth wears a disguise, With a wink in its eye and mischief that flies.
So laugh at the lies, and cherish the jest, For sometimes the fibs are simply the best. But if someone says they caught “one this big,”— Just smile and nod… and call out their gig.
Reason falters when emotions dance, And truth is dulled by the thirst of chance. We join the wild crowd, swept along For in the chaos, we feel we belong.
A cause embraced, no matter the cost, Feeds the ego, though truth is lost. It lifts our minds, ignites our pride, While truth stands quiet, pushed aside.
But still, a whisper calls us near: “Be still, and let your soul draw clear.” For when the heart finds holy peace, The noise of self and strife will cease.
Calm your soul, and still your mind The light of Truth you soon will find. Hold fast to Jesus, pure and bright, And walk forever in His light.
The rose smiles in silence, soft and serene, A whisper of grace in shades of green. Its petals unfold, a quiet embrace, A masterpiece born of time and space.
Its beauty paints the world anew, A crimson blush, a golden hue. Without a word, it speaks to the heart, A timeless language, a work of art.
No need for voices, no need for sound, Its presence alone is beauty unbound. A silent teacher, its lesson is clear— Grace blooms quietly, for all who draw near.
