I love this world........
why?
I do not have an answer
I want to embrace her
why?
I do not have an answer
Why all white pigeons are flying around me?
Why all flowers seems to have fully blossomed?
Why all incense have smell I never experienced?
Why all angels are dancing around me?
I have no answer to any of these
Still Still Still....
I am sitting here and prompting
"The World is beautiful"
"The World is beautiful"
"The World is beautiful"
Saturday, 7 April 2012
Saturday, 25 February 2012
Marriage is the ultimate climax of Love
Marriage is the ultimate climax of Love.
Two extreme character...
coming under one roof.
First Noise...
then Silence...
all is a temptation to become one.
We were in search from childhood...
the most beautiful.
And then, the most beautiful were...
flowers and butterflies.
To reach flowers in our hands, we picked out one of them... though not all.
To possess the butterfly, we caught one. And to retain...
we pulled off its wings.
When those most beautiful reached our hand...
we could not see its beauty.
Eventually, Eventually, things changed...
we relished beauty of flowers...
without picking out one.
Rejoiced the freedom of butterfly.
We started ...
learning...
silence has its own lessons to teach.
Knowing...
noise has its own rhythm and music.
Ultimately Marriage is the climax of Love.
A sequence of events...
take you to reach that climax.
And the most beautiful is ....
not Rose or Butterflies.
She She She...
who will join us is the most beautiful.
She is made in heaven,
and Unique in character...
who is made in the heart of GOD.
Because we are very very very special for HIM.
Two extreme character...
coming under one roof.
First Noise...
then Silence...
all is a temptation to become one.
We were in search from childhood...
the most beautiful.
And then, the most beautiful were...
flowers and butterflies.
To reach flowers in our hands, we picked out one of them... though not all.
To possess the butterfly, we caught one. And to retain...
we pulled off its wings.
When those most beautiful reached our hand...
we could not see its beauty.
Eventually, Eventually, things changed...
we relished beauty of flowers...
without picking out one.
Rejoiced the freedom of butterfly.
We started ...
learning...
silence has its own lessons to teach.
Knowing...
noise has its own rhythm and music.
Ultimately Marriage is the climax of Love.
A sequence of events...
take you to reach that climax.
And the most beautiful is ....
not Rose or Butterflies.
She She She...
who will join us is the most beautiful.
She is made in heaven,
and Unique in character...
who is made in the heart of GOD.
Because we are very very very special for HIM.
Saturday, 28 January 2012
Wolsan Ki Dong Kim
"The war had started on the same day as my 12th birthday. It was the most colourful period of anybody’s life, teenage. And it was lost to me, in suffering and helplessness. But, later, it became the source of my writing" is the word of a famous poet Wolsan Ki Dong kim.
Though he wrote 250 writings, none crack the recounts the war between North and South Korea. Though this war was in reality a proxy war between the USA and USSR. He became homeless and had to look after his family of widows and orphans who no longer had a roof over their heads. He lost his eleven family members in the aftermath leaving behind nine.Before he crossed his teens, he was chained to bonded labour for seven years to a wealthy household in the village, for had borrowed rice from them to feed his homeless family.
Wolsan mountain in South Korea is at the core of all his poetry. As a child he used to climb the mountain everyday where he dreamt about his future and nurtured his hopes.
He has been adopted the pen name as Wolsan. His poetry is like a shadow of the grief-stricken childhood. The mountain of grief is much like a cold, misty hillock. But it also promised the hope of a sunrise to a young poet.His writings - poetry and essays – bear the scars of a severed soul.
Though he wrote 250 writings, none crack the recounts the war between North and South Korea. Though this war was in reality a proxy war between the USA and USSR. He became homeless and had to look after his family of widows and orphans who no longer had a roof over their heads. He lost his eleven family members in the aftermath leaving behind nine.Before he crossed his teens, he was chained to bonded labour for seven years to a wealthy household in the village, for had borrowed rice from them to feed his homeless family.
Wolsan mountain in South Korea is at the core of all his poetry. As a child he used to climb the mountain everyday where he dreamt about his future and nurtured his hopes.
He has been adopted the pen name as Wolsan. His poetry is like a shadow of the grief-stricken childhood. The mountain of grief is much like a cold, misty hillock. But it also promised the hope of a sunrise to a young poet.His writings - poetry and essays – bear the scars of a severed soul.
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