thx u bu Arfi
Sunday, December 21, 2025
A Prayer Not Yet Perfect
A Prayer Not Yet Perfect
Lately,
I have been praying more than usual,
though still far from complete,
not like those devoted souls
who worship You with pure devotion.
They say
worship should be born of love,
not from desire,
not from hands raised
because they want something.
Forgive me, O God,
I have not reached that place yet.
My heart is still learning sincerity,
my prayers are mixed with fear and longing,
my faith still bargains.
But You know all things—
behind my many requests
there is a weary soul
and a hope that nearly fades.
One day,
I wish to come to You without conditions,
to pray without expectation,
to call Your name only out of love.
But for now,
please accept this imperfect prayer.
Grant it, if You will,
for I am still learning how to love
in Your presence.
Saturday, December 20, 2025
Alienated
Alienated
Suddenly, I remember that time—
when kindness was absent,
and silence was sharpened into a blade.
They were cruel,
not with fists,
but with glances that erased me,
with laughter that closed doors
before I could knock.
I was being alienated,
slowly, deliberately,
treated as an outsider
in a room I once believed was mine.
He——
with words that cut by pretending not to matter.
She——
with smiles that never reached the soul.
She——
with absence louder than insult.
They named me other,
as if I were a mistake
that wandered into their perfect circle.
But listen—
even an outsider sees the truth more clearly.
Even an alien learns the map of pain
and survives it.
I do not beg for justice.
I do not scream for revenge.
I leave the scales where they belong.
May God give them what they deserve—
not from my anger,
but from His perfect memory.
As for me,
I walk forward
no longer invisible,
no longer broken,
carrying the quiet power
of someone
who endured
and did not become cruel in return.
But What About Now
But What About Now
God,
I am afraid.
My body whispers strange messages,
signals I do not fully understand.
I wonder—
is something breaking inside me?
Is this the time
people never plan for?
I remember that moment,
before Taiwan,
before hope had a destination.
A doctor looked at me
with numbers instead of mercy
and said he would not give the letter.
He thought my body
was already negotiating with death.
The word die
hovered in the room,
heavy, unfinished.
But I asked my sister—
a doctor,
a believer in second chances hidden in chemistry.
She gave me a medicine,
small but brave.
It calmed my blood,
lowered the storm inside my veins.
And suddenly,
the impossible softened.
The doctor approved.
The door opened.
I crossed oceans.
I lived.
So now I ask—
what about now, God?
Is this fear a warning
or just an echo
of an old battle I already won?
If You saved me then,
when the odds were loud,
when death felt close enough to touch,
surely You have not brought me this far
just to abandon me in silence.
My body may tremble,
but my story is not finished.
I am still breathing.
Still walking.
Still asking questions—
and that means I am still here.
God,
if this is another test,
give me calm.
If this is only fear,
teach it to pass.
And if I am weak today,
remind me—
I have survived before.
And I am not done yet.
“The Unsent Message”
“The Unsent Message”
I remember that moment—
told to meet her in private,
time waiting politely,
but my mind crashed,
my fingers froze,
no message sent,
no appointment made,
silence stretching
until now.
I am very stupid, I said,
laughing bitterly at myself,
forgetting how to breathe
between courage and a calendar.
And then it happens again—
he asks for a private meeting,
the door half open,
and I—stupid again—
no message,
no private appointment,
just holy moly
echoing in my head.
What is happening to me?
God,
please help me.
Make me kind,
not only in intention.
Make me diligent,
brave enough to begin.
Make me disciplined,
strong enough to press send.
Please don’t let them hate me—
because truly,
I am not careless,
only late
in learning responsibility.
Today,
I stand before the screen,
typing my future with shaking hands,
finally knowing this:
courage can be simple—
one message,
one appointment,
one small step
finally sent.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
