TO SEEKING, KNOCKING, ASKING, AND GIVEN
Sometimes things can be so simple,
When you just sit and seek guidance
From the holy cistern of wisdom:-
Trying to please you has been
A challenging endeavor
For me to accomplish:-
But now, I’m in the awareness
That my focus simply needs to be,
Taking care of you in labours of love:-
“How much greater value,
Is wisdom than gold…and likewise,
Understanding, more valuable than silver?”
No, nothing can match
God’s divine navigation,
And His Son’s footprinting:-
Praise be to the Trinity,
For body and soul healing:
Indeed, just seek, knock, and ask;
And in due time, all needs will be given:-
Old wounds have a way of knocking
when the house grows still at night,
appearing like familiar shadows
just beyond the reach of light.
They arrive in borrowed voices,
in memories dressed as truth,
wearing faces I once trusted
from the broken years of youth.
They whisper,
Perhaps you never healed at all.
Perhaps the scar is just a seam
waiting for the smallest pull
to split apart at every dream.
And for a moment,
I believe them.
I feel the ache beneath my skin.
I hear the echo of old battles
calling me to fight again.
But wounds are not the same as doorways.
Not every pain must let us through.
A scar remembers where we've traveled;
it does not tell us what to do.
So, I sit quietly beside it,
like an old friend passing by.
I do not run.
I do not follow.
I do not ask the reason why.
I simply let it have its moment,
the grief, the fear, the ancient ache.
Then watch it fade like distant thunder
across a sky it cannot take.
For healing was not being untouched.
It was learning, day by day,
that old wounds may still come knocking,
but I no longer have to stay.
As morning comes
My love for you
Grows as seed
In the vwaza marsh
You are the shining star
In the midnight
You bring happiness to my life
As your love is sharp as knife
Give me a piece of your heart
I will never make it hurt
Have peace in your heart
It will not be the end but the start
As the sunshines
Dew goes
But I will stay here
Knocking
[TO THE DEAR]
knocking car engine
rocking to musical beat
threw a rod to stars
The silence was shattered - a knock at my door,
A sound most profane I had not heard before.
It echoed and deepened, it pounded the floor,
And my soul cried for silence - the blessed old lore.
The clock whispered softly - a quarter past four,
It's ticking, a heartbeat, that haunted me more.
Each knock was a whisper, each sound was a sore,
Each echo a shadow that crept to my core.
"Begone!" I bellow, "disturb me no more! My patience grows thin - my spirit is sore, I carry the steel that speaks with a roar, so silence thy madness - and darken my door!"
The rapping then ceased, and calm filled the air,
I tread through the hall with a ghost - ridden stare.
My heart, though it stilled, felt heavy with care - for no one was waiting, and no one was there.
Yet faint in the hush of the midnight's dark shore,
Came softly - so softly - the knocking once more
The Rhetoric Often
Seems To Direct You
To A Different Dream
Than A TRUE Future
Does.
Because,
Because IT Does.
Did YOU Hear
Anything?
-Gray Squirrel
09-13-2025
I don't wanna be
a wannabe no more
waiting for opportunity
to come a'knocking
on my open door
and the day she does
tho' the lights are on
there's no one home
as I'll probably be
out to lunch
knowing me
so I wanna see
'Been there, done that!'
on my resumé because
I'm oh-so tired
of being a never-was
20 Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.
Revelation 3:20
Jesus is knocking
He seeks your fellowship
will you let Him in
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
I am here!
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Are you there?
I am the Shepherd of heaven's flock,
The door of your heart, please unlock.
I am here!
At the door of your heart, I knock.
Hear my voice, I am here, so near,
The door of your heart, please unlock,
And let our two hearts as one lock.
Where are you?
Turn the knob, snob me not,
Sup with me and I'll sup with you,
The table of your heart, the spot,
Come, dine with the living brot.
And there you are.
O what a cold old heart thou art!
The dainty delicacies of sin you store and share,
Is the devil's death knell for a fleshy heart.
There's death in the pot you serve, depart.
I have come, come let's dine,
Eat my flesh, drink my blood, eat and live.
My flesh is meat. My blood is fine wine,
Ignite the hearth in your heart, keep the fire alive.
Eat and drink the living word, eat and live.
I am here!
In your heart to forever stay,
The deadly dainty delicacies of sin eat no more.
The hot pot of the word, eat night and day,
Our hearts together locked as one in heaven's way.
By Oshorakpor Wilson.
Adapted from Revelation 3:20.
spaceman come knocking on my door
said he gonna tell the night
said he gonna tell the star
I said one day soon
he’ll be far
his eyes were bright
but mine were too
and he
most distant man I’d ever see
boots were wide
padded suit
to see him through the galaxy
yet I’ll be here
spaceman there
opposite points in history
with every life in between
spaceman come knocking space’s door
said he gonna be blood of earth
said he gonna go explore
and off
bleed
carry our torch
He knocked upon my door one day
I answered by letting him in
I couldn't imagine what he would say
But something did begin
Something, too good to be true,
one would say, something out of the blue
Something edging on the brink
something, that was you
Inside the knocking became so loud
Vibrations turning upside down
A miracle? I dare not ask
I was willing to take upon the task.
For many nights the knocking came
Long the hours, we were the same
till morning rise, it called my name
and i reached out to share in this game
This feeling, new and undiscovered
made one enchanted by the other.
In the heart the knocking grew,
Pounding out it's rhythms' new
Enchantment, ah the word is sweet
is also masked by being incomplete
Voices carry through the night
the closer the knocking
the stronger the might
then the words came from the knock...
And it threw me.
Knocking on doors, people to meet,
house after house, street after street,
keeping going, day after day,
whatever polls or trolls might say,
there's not much time for resting feet.
Car park selfies, the meet and greet,
sharing stickers and printed sheets,
no time to waste, there’s no delay,
knocking on doors.
Sunshine, showers, rinse then repeat,
change is never an easy feat,
when the future is all in play,
but we’ll turn corners, come what may,
walking, talking, to win this seat,
knocking on doors.
You're aware of death
But don't take it serious
Till your final breath
Winter knocked
but no one answered.
Since Summer went on holiday
and Spring is still in bed.
Autumn hears but is sunk so deeply,
so comfortably
into the pumpkin colored easy chair
that it cannot be bothered
to get up and relinquish
the leaves off the trees
or the puffs of dandelion seeds
or the ghost of a warm breeze
which haunts the days.
So, Winter knocks in vain.
I want to go to heaven,to knock on heavens door,to visit all my loved ones,that don’t live here anymore..We all should have a party,one big reunion in the sky,I want to hug them tightly,before I have to say goodbye..I wish there were appointments,I’d go visit everyday,then god could see how much I love them,and not take them all away
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