The PoeTs

Notebook:
A Compilation of Poems (2006 - 2012)

Seymour Nightweaver

The Poets Notebook

A gift from a friend seen and bought from a faraway land, now made into a chest empty, but patiently waiting to be slowly filled up by the most precious jewels that these bare hands ever wrought. Priceless lifelong gems to be discovered and appraised in years and years to come but no merchants scales nor sharp jeweller's tools will ever scratch their surface for none of these can ever rob away the worth of who I am divinely sealed with ink on these papers and in the caverns of my heart as well as on every grain that falls in Times hourglass.

Date written: 3rd August 2011

The Poets
A Compilation of Poems (2006 - 2012)
_____________ All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. (Psalm 139:16)

Notebook:

Special Thanks:
Rebecca Koay Esther Hooi Chee Mei Genevie Loo Gina Yap jeya (mediamilitia.com)
and helped out with this book as well as being a part of my life and journey that made this whole book possible. And of course, to Jesus Christ ...and the many others who has proofread, showed their heartfelt support

Debra Wong

who was already there, patiently waiting right from the very beginning...

the Author and the Finisher of my faith,

(U) Uncopyright, 2013

All contents in this book can be used or altered in any manner without attribution or notice to myself (even for commercial purposes), though attribution is always appreciated.
Blog: rippling-ripples.blogspot.com Email: [email protected]

Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/rippling.ripples

Table of Contents...
i. Abrams Calling pg. 5
The Daughters of Eden pg. 11 Music pg. 13

ii. The Nightweaver pg. 16

The Seventh Month pg. 20

iii. Where Morning Glories Bloom pg. 21

Stronger pg. 24 Ocean Waves pg. 25 A Rainbow Among The Clouds pg. 26 The Cicada pg. 27

iv. Something About Her pg. 28

The Guiding Light pg. 31

(Continued...)
v. Memorial Place (Pilgrimage's End) pg. 32
Just For You: A Cup of Spring Wine pg. 35 The Wine of Summer: A Harvest pg. 37

vi. A Song To Remember pg. 39

Where Were You? pg. 42

vii. Beyond The Horizon pg. 43

My Epitaph pg. 46 Every Gift Has A Story pg. 48

viii. Final Words From The Poet pg. 51

Abrams Calling
I do not really know the way I ought to take neither do I know the place where I will be meeting You who called my name whom Ive never seen before. Neither do I know how long will it take or would I even make it to that unknown secret place where I will finally meet, face-to-face the purpose behind my existence. I do not even know the reason behind this untold longing or why I pursue it but I know I must get there I know I must, because I know deep inside I am made to be there. ***

Just like how You first called Abram this was how You first called me. Faith I knew not, neither did I know who You were, but when I first saw Your face after a journey of years through the wilderness immediately I knew It was You. (That is how my journey first began)

Date written: 25th June 2011

Five years ago, I was a totally different person. With absolutely no knowledge about Jesus, I was raised in a TaoistBuddhist environment. All my life, I was only taught to unquestionably obey the traditions of my family and worship the spirits of our ancestors as well as the temple idols that stood before me. Since childhood, I was constantly reminded to revere the gods and fear the existence of evil spirits. I was also taught to work hard in life, and pray to the idols so that they would bless me with my needs, comfort and luxuries such as good results, fortune, a good wife and prosperity. The smoke of joss sticks, the oil lamps and the burning of paper money were elements that I was once familiar with in the past - elements of religion that became the centre of my spiritual life. I always thought that the life I knew back then was all that existed... ...but that itself, was the problem. Because all these never gave me the answer to my existence. Why was I born? Why school? Why do I have to marry and start a family? Why do I even live if all there is at the end of the day is only death? Why even bother working so hard and wasting so many resources if that is all there is? These were the questions that were constantly lingering in my mind back then - and ever since then, I began questioning. I began questioning the obligations and the expectations that were placed upon me by society. I questioned the way this world operated, especially when all I see was just money, and more money. 7

I questioned the purpose of living and the reason for existence. That was the period when I began to identify myself to the introvert side of me. It was also then when I found that inner side of me where I often retreated in trying to shut off the noises and distractions of the outside world. That was also the time when I started reflecting upon my thoughts and actions, picking up and realising things that I had overlooked in my life. I began looking back reevaluating and remembering again the things that had happened, how and why it had happened, as well as their outcomes ...and it was also then when for the first time, God gently led me down a path where all the pieces began to come together and started to make sense. Like a video recorder, things and events began to unwind and rewind again in my mind. I began to see a chain of occurrences and a network of event that kept everything intact - noticing how one event interweaved with many others in order to connect to the next. How everything that I have, both my strengths and even my flaws, have made me into the person I am today. How my blessings have given me some of the things I would not have obtained otherwise, and how all the bad and horrible things that happen in the past have made me a stronger person. I began to see life to unfold itself and how much I had learned, gained and grown while being alive, no matter how good or bad life was at that moment. Everything that I once thought was coincidental was suddenly not as what they first seemed to me, and the story of my life suddenly began to appear to me as a linear plot. I began to see how everything was put together and beautifully organised like a plot of a story - as if all that had happened in my life so far had all been mapped out and decided right from the 8

very beginning ...as if there was really someone who was behind all these, directing and piecing everything together. It was on that night when I unknowingly received my first revelation of the God who was behind my life and existence. My life was never a string of coincidences. It was planned, and everything had been mapped out so well that I could never rule out the possibility of a God being in control of my life... ...But more than that, it was also from that moment when I began to live my life with a renewed sense of hope and spirit - because I finally came to my realisation that my life was no longer worthless. I knew now that my life had a meaning and a purpose to it, and I existed because I was meant to discover and fulfil it. *** Many things had happened since then. Five years later during a late night worship, God spoke to me again about what happened on that night. He walked through with me again on those memories of how I first knew Him, and God began to speak to me: Wilson, When I first called Abram from the comforts of his home into the wilderness of Canaan, this was what he went through back then. He did not knew who I was, neither did he know where he was heading. I did not even reveal to him my Name. But he still obediently walked with Me, taking each step by faith and believed in the promises that I gave him. There was no law in the past. Neither was there a prophet nor a divine scripture to guide him, but I sustained him with My grace - and in the end, I credited him as righteous before My eyes. Wilson, This was also how I first called you. You did not know Me at first, 9

but I was the one who revealed Myself to you. It was not by your might and knowledge that got you this far, but Mine. On that night, I remembered again Gods faithfulness and grace. My love for God was refreshed and renewed, and in the midst of intimate worship and uncontrollable weeping, these words suddenly began to form in my mind: Just like how You first called Abram this was how You first called me That was how it all began.

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The Daughters of Eden

The beloved parent who brought us into this world clothed and fed us during our early years and whom we turned to when we hurt our knee, had a hole to patch or just wanted loving affection. The annoying sibling who cries and complains at the slightest fuss, whose spoiled nature adored at the cost of your dismaywho will then mature and know the answers to the problems you could never solve on your own. The opposite half who sometimes leaves us baffled with her fancies and cravings and turbulent emotional cycles but a companion she will be who will be there in times of great need a trusted friend, indeed and who will ever know which one it will be whom you will tie the knot and spend your remaining life with?

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Whether a friend or sister a stranger or colleague, your dearest beloved or even your nagging mother, each possesses a jewel of incomparable value a share of their inheritance as the beautiful daughters of Eden that you can always see when they adorn it in their eyes as their faces lit up and gleam with unspeakable joy true beauty unveiled in the moment of worship as they meet face to face with the Lover of their souls sitting by His feet like sweet innocent Magdalene and re-living the days of the Garden when God walked with his beloved. Date written: 21st June 2011

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Music
People look at me when I ask for headphones (The music player was down) They gave them to me anyway and I wore it on my head, the wire dangling in the air. Where is your iPhone, Where is your MP3 what music do you hear? (Pause) I wish I could but I can never really plug that wire into my soul. *** For the music that I hear is not from Justin Bieber nor those other commercial songs that everyone is crazy about. My songs have nothing to do with popular celebrity worship, but its tune will always live even when all things come to pass My music is never about money or the many things man would seek Neither is it sung for fame or by attention-seeking addicts, but it is one that only those who know the greatest mystery of it all will sing it with all their lives for nothing that comes from their mouth will ever be sweeter than it.

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It is not a song for the hedonists who only hunger for the pleasures of the ear from the consumerist capitalists, but it is a song for the lost that hope is never far and a song for the found whose joy is in their Home. It is a song that sings of Love, sings of you and me and of everyone else on earth, and the worth of every self. It sings of the universe it sings of time and space, sings of everything in existence: from the Heavens and the clouds to the ants on the ground, from the cornerstones of the galaxy to the very depths of our heart and our hidden hurts and secrets. A song beyond words, a song beyond sound whose ripples can still resound in the midst of stagnant silence, a song beyond the rhythms of convention, principle and law and a song beyond beautiful for Beauty, is what it is about.

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A song that began when everything came to be and a song that will never end even when all is beyond dust - Such was the music I heard that endlessly echoed within: The Music of All Music, One with no comparison. Date written: 4th October 2011

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The Nightweaver
From the darkness I rise Never felt so alive as I awaken from my slumber. My heart and soul revived, dancing alongside the rippling melody of the songs played to soothe my ears My lungs welcome the chilly night air Inspiration in every breath, feeding, nourishing my yearning spirit. Raven black wings stretched, a silhouette of darkness Deceiving prying eyes as I soar in the skies For to many, I am a creature of enigma. Rarely people wander deep into my caverns For they cant really see what truly lies, deep inside the darkness.

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More fail to understand that darkness is my guide From it, I learn the meaning of appreciation From it, I appreciate the warmth of the loving From it, I love the passion of discovery And deep in its core, I discover His guiding, and His light. I am the Nightweaver I weave bundles of memories, spools of knowledge, strings of emotion, tapestries of wordsan art most admirable. The moon shining, polishing the pen my needle Arise shall my passion in its revitalising glow As I soar, bathing in moonlight To weave, my next creation Date written: 24th April 2008

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I only added Nightweaver to my pseudonym after the day I wrote this poem. Years back, I was a totally different person, and both this poem and my pseudonym reminded me of whom I was back then. I was one who drew my best from the darkness and the stillness of the night. It was there where I found my inner home. For a period in my life, my writing revolved around those silent moments of solitude. It was in this small and mysterious cocoon of mine where I first grew and learnt more about myself However, things change, and the person who I am in the past has grown into someone different, especially during the past four and a half years of my life. Until this very day, I still return to that old shell of mine from time to time. It is still a rejuvenating and nurturing experience for me to draw inspiration from those peaceful nocturnal moments especially in times when I am seeking peace and solace, or that I am just wanting to rest or pause from my daily life. It is still a shelter I sometimes return to especially when I need to hide while recovering from the wounds of lifes disappointments. However, I no longer made darkness my master. Seymour Nightweaver I still am, but today... I desire to outgrow my own wells of self-pity and trenches of depressive low selfworth. I desire to learn to embrace and accept the dark shadows of my life, and at the same time, to learn to no longer cling unto them. With Christ, I have been made whole and complete. No longer do I need to feel inferior or worthless with myself. No longer do I see the need for me to hold feelings of hatred or resentment against anybody and even to those who have brought so many hurts and disappointment into my life long ago. And neither do I want to hate myself and the flaws within me any longer for it is through all my hurts, flaws and imperfections that Gods glory and purpose have been magnified in my life beyond my 18

wildest imagination. Such, is the beauty that I desire to weave as the Nightweaver A beauty of its very kind: A beauty that comes from one who has lived in and is now outliving the darkness of his life... One who has seen brokenness in his life and has come out alive to show others what it means to love and live a grace-filled life And one, who desires to be light, because he has seen light Himself, so that many others can see it as well ...and know that there is such a thing call hope in this world of darkness.

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The Seventh Month

Joss sticks and candles offered with food by the quiet roadside as paper money burned in front of amulet-covered doors to please the dead and the feared roaming spirits. Here am I, walking on an hour many avoid singing songs, praising with love fearing nothing even of those what might lurk in the dark and still find peace for there is no reason to fear While walking past the fire leaving behind those rituals of the past that I have long abandoned since the day I rose into life from beneath those worthless ashes.

Date written: 2nd August 2011

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Where Morning Glories Bloom

Angels disguised, as winged insects fluttering around the guests who ventured deep within to the edge of humans' grasp called civilisation, an hours worth of journey to where the morning glories bloom at the end of a trail of a call so divine. Wealths absence seen as darkness engulfs and night mocks the homes where light is found wanting but grace abounds more when nature unveils herself and makes her provisions her own Honoured, by the generous hosts with exotic offerings of monkey meat. The small old chapel waited for them all to be opened for small worship; Villagers feasted on a humble, simple dinner, enriching their hearts in communion with their brethren, who joyfully they received with dancing and lively music.

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Gods presence unceasing like the lively Sungai Lerek full of force and life upon His simple peaceful beings who lack many but this; In the village our feet have stepped where morning glories bloom and refuse to shy away all day long. Date written: 13th March 2011

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This poem was written during my first mission trip to minister to an Orang Asli settlement. The encounter with the Semoi people only lasted for two days but for me, the experience was a total eye-opener. Being given the opportunity to live, eat and even bathe in the same river with the Semoi people, I learned for myself how it felt like to be living as one of them. It was truly a humbling experience to learn and observe the simplicity of their way of life that was previously very foreign to me. To be so close to nature, feeling the abundance of overflowing life in the clean waters, while butterflies were fluttering above among the canopies and tame dragonflies were resting on my fingers. They were so different than me in many ways, yet at the same time, all of us could still come together and worship God as a Body in a small Methodist chapel. Throughout my stay with them, I experienced tranquillity. I also enjoyed a period of peace and rest from the hectic and tiring city life as well as a moment to ponder about the things we truly lack while being in the midst of all the luxury and technological conveniences. There were no internet and no electricity in the village and even the phone was barely usable. Yet, I could see God moving through mother nature and making His dwelling among the Semoi people in a way I had never seen before. It was a totally different form of spirituality, making its home in the hearts of the Semoi people, a place where modernisation has only made a vague foothold on. During that trip, I observed. I learned And I also grew. PS: And I was not joking that it was there where I first discovered how monkey meat tasted like.

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Stronger
See my scars, See my wounds, All over the place Far from perfect; ...Just like anyone. Cracks and wrinkles Run all over Like the trunk of a tree Like any tree in any forest, Battered by rain and wind. Baby days long lost Cheated away by the world; The frost who kills and steals From every tree in every forest, But my roots run deep, Deep in my father's womb And my leaves are not blind Fed by the Sun above... I shall live. Day, or night, Stronger with every stormLike how it has always been. Date written: 28th October 2012 Note: A poem I wrote for myself for my 23rd birthday.

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Ocean Waves
The waves of the ocean constantly on the go never found stillness carelessly ebb and flow; in their up-and-down motion never stop clashing with the ageless, rocky shore. Their voice never sleeps, occasionally loud occasionally muffled... but never silent; yet a rhythm can still be found in their restless chaotic form nothing but an abstract shape; a soft rhythm alive even in endless noise - a rhythm that brings peace, stillness and healing to the hearts of those who could hear its whispers... Such is life. Date written: 9th April 2012

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A Rainbow Among The Clouds

A beautiful rainbow among bleak gloomy clouds seen, sitting by a window in this crowded bus looking out, to the world outside with a pair of lovely eyes and a smile more charming than the graceful evening light. So near, yet so far such are the whispers of this silent weather who draws with words and colours dreams on paper as he continues to gaze on and admire the mesmerizing beauty of a rainbow among the clouds. *** Continue to smile, because you will never know when your smile... will be a blessing to another. Date written: 28th May 2011 Note: This poem was inspired and specially written for Mei Hong (), the Beautiful Rainbow, on the day she returned to Macau. May God be with you in everything you do.

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The Cicada
The unfamiliar tunes periodically haunting these empty caverns except for myself and the unbroken silence coming from high above a direction once unknown lure my senses, rearoused. The paths in the dark unseen, yet familiar now feel strangely distant as if I am a stranger even to my own self and the damp dark soil I have been calling my home since seasons and years behind *** Never know what time has brought would bring me up and out from the world I once knew into the light of reality and the song of life that I am now a part of, carrying my own music that I will retune and refine as I fly in the streams of time with my new-found wings searching for the destiny that I have been made for when I first breathed life deep in the earths dark core Date written: 7th May 2011

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Something about Her

At half past six every morning, Im already awake, but still yawning; I stand by the roadside, yearning, But it isnt the bus that I'm waiting. I turned behind and there she was, Waiting with me, for the lagging bus; Listening to her morning buzz, I was, It had no full stops but a lot of commas. One thing I enjoy is talking to her, Every morning, we're full of laughter; Though I hope it'll last forever, Be late for school, I would never! At last school ended and I felt lethargic, Add Math, Physics and Chemistry, I was pathetic; As I boarded the bus, it felt like magic, She was there and I was now energetic. Whenever I need her, shes always there, All my fuss and problems I would share; Shell cool me down when my tension flares, Cheering me up is what she cares. Theres something about her I always wonder, Whenever shes around, my problems drift; She calms my soul and keeps me inspired, How does she do it? I always ponder.

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I have no idea but there is something, Something special and yet exciting; Its so mysterious it keeps me thinking, What she has while others are lacking. Though I dont know what is the answer, I must stop writing Im running out of paper; Will I find out the answer? It doesnt matter, Whatever happens, shes my friend forever. Date written: 9th April 2006

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This is the first poem I have ever written. It was from the date when this poem was first written when I started embarking on the journey of a poet, which happened during one of my Accounting tuition classes in Form Five. It all began with just a single phrase, and for no particular reason I just wrote the second phrase on the next line. It was from there when I began rhyming and ended up with the first stanza. The rest soon followed, giving birth to this once fresh artistic revelation. It was a poem filled with the innocence and naivety of my youth. One that was brought into life by the shallow feelings of a teenagers childish infatuation. It was also a reflection of who I was before I began writing poetry, and this poem was also an indication that showed how different I was ever since then... and how much I had changed ever since. A true story of innocence which eventually became the trigger to the beginning of a great metamorphosis. All began, almost naturally. Fully planned and intended.

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The Guiding Light

You came into the room with a candlelight, And saw me sitting at the darkest corner; You took my hand and held it tight, As you guided me out from my prison chamber. You taught me the meaning of knowledge and virtue, And gave me the seeds of inspiration; You showed me the world from a birds eye view, And filled my soul with determination. Now as I look upon myself with Times mirror, I could barely remember my pasts reflection; You have waken me up from my deep stupor, And lightened my path with education. Its almost time for me to spread my wings, And embark myself on a never-ending journey; I shall remember your definition of a human being, And all the petty little things you teach to many. Though each passing day, your candle shortens, Its flame of dedication will never go any dimmer; And like the many others you have gracefully enlightened, The light shall guide me in my heart forever. Date written: 6th May 2006

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Memorial Place (Pilgrimages End)

Lapping waves by the rocky shore a sound of peace from the calm restless sea. A maiden pilgrim stands gazing at the distance the darkness beyond the horizons unlocking her heart and releasing caged memories now flying away from the tall standing pillars by the sapphire edge now marking the resting place of Reminiscences final fragment buried beneath the earth from where it birthed and bloomed. 1st October 2011. Date written: 2nd October 2011

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On the first of October, she requested me to take her to a certain place by the seaside. I did not know what was in her mind at that moment but as if I was guided by a sense of intuition, I knew I needed to bring her there *** It was half a year ago when I found out that she broke up with her first boyfriend. It was a hard moment for her, a period filled with painful memories and disappointments, but she managed to pick herself up again. It was also from that moment where she decided to embark on a small and personal journey where she literally went back and visited almost every significant place she had been throughout her relationship with her ex, recollecting her memories and saying a final goodbye to each of them before moving on with her life. From the way she was describing the journey to me, I understood it as a pilgrimage of some sort. I could visualise her embarking on a journey with God on an adventure filled with moments of reflections, healing and restorations ...and I was there with her at the final destination of her pilgrimage. What I saw on that night by when we were both by the edge of the sea finally made me understood the emotional and spiritual turmoil that she had gone through during the past six months, and how she had changed and matured throughout that period. It was only then when I finally saw the full beauty behind the plans God had as He worked in her through this painful season. A scarred, but beautiful masterpiece. As I listened to the sound of the unceasing waves and the whisper of the ocean breeze, I found myself touched by what God had done in her life. It was during that moments of finale when I suddenly captured that very essence I eventually used to craft this poem as a beautiful tribute and dedication to my friend, signifying the end of her journey... and also as a fitting offering to God, praising Him for His finished work and unending faithfulness.

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Truly, I was struck with both awe and admiration for His work as I stood there and listened to all He had done and knowing that I had been given the privilege to be there just before the curtain beautifully closed I just cant help but to praise Him with all I have. Definitely one of my most rewarding moments of being a writer, who ebbs and flows with the waves of the Lord.

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Just For You: A Cup of Spring Wine

To the friend who reminded me of how short time can sometimes be; To the friend whose grace I gain when I give, is but grief and pain; This is for you. Just for you. *** From sunset to sunrise I have made it through, The gentle sun arises as darkness departs, in the wake of light. The morning song stirred the fawn awake, in the presence of Spring Birds twittered in the light of dawn merrily celebrating, the brand new bloom. Life bathing in the chilly rain dancing behind the misty veil; Soft ripples washed away pain long endured, through white winter. This new season, all shall rejoice! Garden resowed, with hope and promise; The soil cheered for the praising voice knowing the harvest that it will bear. ***

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May I with God, ever fruitful as His hands laid upon the vines; Pray for coming harvests be sweet and flavourful like this cup before you, the wine of your seeds. Let the fruits abound while my days are still present; Let my banquets always be filled with joy and laughter, and mellowed wine. And when you return again, one Summer day may Future taste far sweeter than Present; I will save the best for that special day to be poured out, toasted, and celebrated With you, and; Just for you. Date written: 27th May 2009

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The Wine of Summer: A Harvest

The chirping birds in the summer sky stir awakes memories once drowned, by the slow, peaceful flow of the gentle stream of Time. A seasons hard work almost forgotten, preoccupied by three years worth of everyday hustle but the sower still remembers the promise he once made. This is for you. Just for you. *** The noble song of the evening forest freely echoes to the far reaches of her sovereign rule And here, a traveller resting beneath the shades his soul drifts away losing itself in a sentimental union with a beauty so majestic.

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Life gazes at the crystal flow and age remembers its younger days of paths long trodden and of scars absent, forgotten As this season continues with countless rejoicing giving thanks for the plumpness of ripened hope and promise from the soil now laden with ever-ceaseless harvest. *** May Gods favour be found in His servants daily manna Pray still for the harvests be filled with lifes flavours like the cup before you, the wine of your seeds. Let blessings continue to pour to all while I am still able. Let Christ continue to reign, and lead my every way So all who seek Life, can taste the joyful wine. A vacant seat awaits, for the day you take your place as the guest of honour of your friends grand banquet and the best shall be poured on this special day to be toasted and celebrated, and an offering to be made. With you; and, Just for you. Date written: 3rd October 2011 PS: To this friend, whom I have made my promise... A toast of mellowed wine. Soli Deo Gloria.

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A Song To Remember
You are my strength, my place of shelter - and I shall never fear even when the storm is brewing because You are always with me by my very side. As great as the distance between the sky and the earth, such is the measure of Your love so fill our hearts to the brim - we who have longing hearts to worship You, Lord Jesus. As great as the distance between the sky and the earth such is the measure of Your love You are God, You are my strength My greatest joy and delight. ***

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The song I learned taught to me yourself a reminder of who you are that I will always remember for the days and days to come. Date written: 19th October 2011 Inspired from: Engkaulah Kerkuatanku by Robert and Lea

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Engkaulah kekuatanku tempat perlindunganku saat badai menerpa aku tak akan goyah Aku tak akan goyah sebab Kau sertaku. Sejauh langit dari bumi begitu besarnya kasihMu penuh hati kami yang rindu menyembahMu, Yesus. Sejauh langit dari bumi begitu besarnya kasihMu Kaulah Tuhan, kerkuatanku sukacitaku. (Lyrics taken from: Engkaulah Kerkuatanku by Robert and Lea)

This poem was specially written to the person who taught me this song. For the things she did, the patience, the guidance and the grace she showed me - which have made all the difference. If not for the footprints she left behind, I would not have found the confidence to accept myself for who I am and to go this far in life. Specially for you, Jie.

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Where Were You?

A stranger lay in silence drenched in a pool of blood. A fool, many said better off dead for the shame and disgrace of crumpling his own life and threw it off the window fourteen storeys below. Some shrugged, watching the humour, few spit on the corpse with lips of puffed up men, while some shook heads sighing while they looked away all forgetting as they walked, locking the attic door behind as if nothing had ever happened. *** And here I am witnessing as a wind blowing from a distance whispering to myself, where is everybody when his heart was broken and where is love when all of us know too well that none could live without it. Again, where was everybody Where were you? Date written: 12th December 2010 Note: A tribute, to Alviss Kong. 42

Beyond The Horizon

The sky so fair and bright adorned with the colours of the rainbow, the wings of soaring birds and the floating clouds bearing life-giving rain bringing joy to many and nourishing, the earth below. The sea so tranquil and silent as fishes explore, its deep blue depths for treasures unknown, stories untold and mysteries unseen while land dwellers hear its gentle whisper as its waves crash upon the rocks hoping to find, the song they seek. Here I am walking along, the sands of dreams and looking as far as my eyes could reach the dreamy azure, the longing emerald and hoping in my heart, for a place and time, beyond the horizon where this pair can meet, hold each others hands and dance, till time can never tell

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When I find that place and see it, with my very eyes you will see this poem and with you, we shall go there we will dwell making our lovely home on this place, where dreams will never fade beyond the horizon. Date written: 23rd December 2010

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Have you ever had a dream? A dream with the hope of wanting to be with someone? I had it once. There was a person I was once in love with. We had quite a number of things in common, and there were many things I admired about her. I thought she was the perfect one for me, and I was constantly dreaming and wondering how it would be if we ever got to be together and started a family. It was during that time when I this poem was written. I initially kept this secret from her, wanting to show it to her only when the dreams are finally fulfilled, with both of us finally together in the years and years to come However, things did not work well as how I thought it would be, and our relationship ended as fast as it started. All the dreams and hopes of being together with her were no longer there any longer. Mistakes were made and everything just fell apart. There was no longer any chance for us to ever be together again, but at the end of the day, I knew too well that I was better off the way it ended, despite the pain and grief. What was not meant to last should not be lasting any longer than it was supposed to. ...But a dream is still a dream, and it is undeniably a beautiful one made immortal in this very poem. A dream that still has its worth because of the memories it carries, one that is worthy to be admired and appreciated as a part and parcel of the beautiful life God has given me.

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My Epitaph
Here lies

Wilson Khor Woo Han (Seymour Nightweaver)

An ordinary mortal who lived life to the fullest who knew Life Himself Who loved, who gave and took pride of his wounds passed on, without a single regret. An ordinary father and husband friend, brother and poet made into a masterpiece engraved by Gods own fingers. ~ 2 Timothy 4:7 ~

Date written: 23rd September 2011 *** Note: Have you ever thought of death? I did. In fact, I pondered upon it a lot. I thought about what I would leave behind when I die. I thought about what I want to achieve before then... 46

I thought about my hopes. I thought about my dreams and also the kinds of footprints that I want to leave to the people behind me... And I realised that there can never be a better answer and a purpose more beautiful than this. So continue to lead my hand, God. To where You want me to be.

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Every Gift Has A Story

Every gift has a story every picture a thousand meanings every life its own purpose every time with its different seasons. I looked down the road as the bride walked down the aisle what lies ahead when each day passes by what story would I write with the breaths God has given will I live up to what I am designed as I gaze into my futures shadows that lie beyond the clear blue sky and the vast quiet ocean standing behind the newlyweds exchanging vows of commitment for their lives brand new chapters. *** Lord, what lies beyond my days only You alone will know - what lies at the end of every ocean and the tales the wind brings each time it comes and goes. Lord,

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only You alone know all, but because it is You and knowing who You are I have nothing much to worry. Because with You comes rest With you, I have peace and joy. With You, my hand is never empty for You will hold it and lead me to where I am supposed to go. I will never be lost with You for in You I will always be found, and in You I will always live for Your heart is where I dwell and Your home is where I will go. Every gift has a story every picture a thousand meanings every life its very own purpose every time with its different seasons so shall my life become. What will be, will be. For whatever You have written for good it will always be and my one and only prayer is just to be there and will never fail to see how Your pages unfold, to witness with my very eyes the beauty of my Lord and to share, Your very work with words that bring me joy.

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Bridging Your heart and the rhythm of Your heartbeats with intimate passionate flows of ink adorning on paper.

Date written: 29th October 2011

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Final Words From The Poet...

Finally, I reached the end of my very first book... and I sincerely hoped that you enjoyed everything that I had written here. Just like how life has been since I first encountered God and started writing poetry seven years ago, the act of writing this book in itself has also been a journey for me. It is a journey of recollection and looking back, where I find myself retracing the footsteps through the many places I have gone and rediscovering the gems I leave behind, and also to look ahead and reexamine the hopes and dreams I have for the days to come. As a result of this interesting journey, I find myself relearning the lessons I acquire all these years. But all in all, there was one precious realisation that I discovered about myself throughout this journey: ...That I was never a writer, and I am never meant to become one. Why, you ask? Writers are inspired souls with the talents to weave their own special and unique stories; powerful tales with the ability to bring their readers drifting into enchanting worlds of fantasy and imagination. Writers are those who genuinely own their stories, with also the ability to mould and shape them according to their liking... ...But these are things that I never have. For me, I was neither the creator nor the owner of the things I wrote on. Rather than being the one who wrote the story, I was just a mere character, narrating the story I was a part of based on my own perspective and observation.
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God's story. I have never been someone who creates and manipulates fresh new settings and plotlines. Rather, I am one who tells and reveals them as what they are. I am also not in things that are flashy, impressive and superficial. Instead, I am someone who journeys and finds myself noticing and appreciating those small little things that I come across every day, and ends up writing about them... A small flower growing by the side of the road... The sound of the whispering breeze... An untold longing for someone... And even the presence of God in my life... These are the things I wish to write and convey beautifully through my poems for all to see, hear and feel... and to know, that God is as real as ever. Every gift has a story every picture a thousand meanings every life its very own purpose every time with its different seasons
so

shall my life become what will be, will be. For whatever You have written for good it will always be and my one and only prayer

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is just to be there and will never fail to see how Your pages unfold, to witness with my very eyes the beauty of my Lord and to share, Your very work with words that bring me joy. Bridging Your heart and the rhythm of Your heartbeats with intimate passionate flows of ink adorning on paper. *** Lord. Again, it does not matter where we are going. I want to go to wherever You take me, to see and learn from the places and people You want to bring me to. I just want to be with You, to always be in Your presence to live a life filled with Your love, joy, provision and grace. I just want to journey with You, and to be closer to You with each passing day. That is all I am. That is why... I am never a writer. Am just an ordinary person. An ordinary narrator, who is merely playing his part in a story greater than himself. Who is just making his best out of whatever he has, while occasionally and shamelessly slip and stumble along the way.
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The story that belongs to the LORD Most High. The story that is written even before the days of Creation, continuing down to all eternity... That is the story I am a part of, that I have written about so much and have found so much beauty in. This, is who I am - and I truly hope that you, too, could see what I have seen through the pages of this book. Soli Deo Gloria.

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...The whole story began when I received a poetry notebook as a gift and decided to fill it with a compilation of poetry and a summary of the past six years of my life. From there, I embarked on an adventure of reflection, remembering and nostalgia travelling back to the day when God called me for the very first time, as well as the day when I first breathed and weaved the poetic air More than just about myself, this book also tells of God, in whom I find my identity and inspiration, as well as the story I am made to be a part of.

All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. Psalm 139:16