The Most Sacred of them All

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13‬:‭4‬-‭7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Like a bride walking down the aisle

with grace,

in white laces,

in pearls,

and in veil,

ready to give her entirety

to her groom who’s all smiling, standing in front the Holy Grail . . . .

. . . . such a bittersweet moment for a sobbing dad who is giving her away.

Like a nation’s flag,

to which we sing the Anthem that always brings out silent tears;

to which we stand in honor of our beloved country’s pride and glory;

to which we lay our hands

on our chest. . . .

. . . on loyalty and patriotism,

the vets are the best.

Like a prayer,

during which we say contrition with fervor:

Be aloud or in silence,

We clothe ourselves with humility.

We strip ourselves of pride.

We ask for deliverance and provision.

We give thanks and praise—

Amen is a potent affirmation.

Truer than gold;

Purer than spring water;

Prettier than May flowers;

Sweeter than honey

is humanity’s legacy:

Love is the most sacred of them all.

And its sanctity lies on its very essence,

conquering all.

YouTube/Kenny Rankin/What Matters Most

And We Waltz the Blues

“He said to her,’Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your sufferings,” Mark 5:34 (NIV).

Hello friends, forgive me, I haven’t get the chance to see how you and your blogs are doing lately. But I hope all is well and everyone is safe and healthy and happy. Thank you for your generosity and support. I’ll make it up to you soon. Have fun blogging and writing and posting. A blessed Sunday to you all! To God be always all the glory.



And We Waltz the Blues

YouTube/All I Ask of You/Daddy Daughter Duo/Phantom of the Opera

No, Not the Mirror

Blind spot is real of which mirror is ill.

Updated 01:04, Tuesday, October 11, 2022.

Brethren, how could you ask me “face the mirror?” How could you trust that it can tell you everything about me? How can mere reflection speak of me? Or of anyone.

Yes, my face wears fine and deep lines. . . . but aren’t we all at the mercy of time? Yes, my hairs are often uncombed. . . . mind sparing me a comb? And yes, my lips turned mauve. . . . inflation is such a bummer—I’m sure you know.

But those are not all who I am. I ask not for sympathy; but empathy and understanding can make you a better man. Compassion is divine.

Truth: The mirror is ignorant. . . . of the throes of my mind, battling external and internal enemies; of the weight on my shoulders, enduring given to-dos—I didn’t even sign; of the lading at my feet, trying so hard to head north even with just a dime.

Such an ignoramus, a true dunce. . . . it cannot speak for the heart I give to my love and passion; it cannot speak for my spirit, though in ruins but is relentless in carrying on; it cannot speak for the breadth and depth of my soul, ever rallying and laboring for a meaningful cause.

It can’t be stressed enough: blind spot is real. . . . of which mirror is ill.

YouTube/Reflection/Christina Aguilera