Saturday, March 28, 2026
A Gentle Warning
A Gentle Warning
Once—
a flicker on the screen,
a whisper in the wires—
Mendeley failed,
Word collapsed,
and suddenly
the silence felt… dangerous.
A small fear crept in—
what if everything vanished?
All the thoughts,
all the drafts,
all the almost-finished dreams.
And then—
a memory returned.
This has happened before.
A quiet lesson once ignored:
close the pages,
rest the machine,
protect the work
like a fragile prayer.
O God,
thank You for this subtle warning—
not a loss,
but a reminder wrapped in unease.
After this,
I will not delay.
I will write,
again and again,
before time dares to erase intention.
Let discipline grow
where panic once lived.
Let gratitude rise
where fear once stood.
Because even in error,
there is mercy—
a nudge back
to purpose.
Friday, March 27, 2026
Thursday, March 26, 2026
A Strange Blessing
A Strange Blessing
A baffling twist of fate that day,
I reached the airport—then dismay,
My bag, my things, my small world there,
Left on a train, gone unaware.
Back to the station, heart in race,
Regret and worry on my face,
I spoke to staff with trembling plea—
“The train is gone,” they said to me.
Miles away, it carried on,
My hopes felt fading, nearly gone,
I waited there with silent prayer,
Between despair and fragile care.
Yet grace arrived in quiet ways,
A gentle light through anxious haze,
In a land where honesty stays,
My lost belongings found their ways.
Taiwan held safe what I had lost,
A mercy far beyond the cost,
Though flight tickets burned to the sky,
Still faith refused to say goodbye.
For God, in wisdom we can’t see,
Takes one, returns in mystery,
What fades today may yet be replaced,
With greater gifts, by mercy graced.
So I stand still, with القلب light,
Through loss, I learn to trust the night—
For every fall, a hand above,
Reminds me still: I’m held in love.





























.jpeg)
