When a man is weighed down by the past and terrified of the future, depression becomes inevitable

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And gradually, I fell into the abyss.
I swam deeply through its muddy waters,
Journeying down a path that once seemed right,
But slowly, it led me to destruction.

I was bound with heavy chains,
Hunted and condemned by my own thoughts.
Thick darkness engulfed my very being;
Mighty fear took a firm grip on me.

A slave I was to my fleshy desires,
Never satiated, for I craved still more.
A captive of my choices I became—
My soul, spirit, and body wrestled for peace.

I yearned deeply for redemption,
I wailed endlessly for freedom,
For I was trapped in this nature of sin,
Covered in filth, permeated by guilt.

But then, I met a Nazarene who fixed me up.
With open arms, He embraced me.
In exchange for my guilt, He gave me a gift—
Christ’s gift of salvation, all I ever needed.

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THE FEAR OF DEATH

Death is indeed a common destination we all share,
It marks the end point—the finish line of our earthly race,
I do not fear it, nor wish it away,
For I know it will come visiting someday.

To fear death is to live in bondage,
To embrace it is to become a sage,
To be conscious of it is to maximize time,
To me, death is simply an expected guest.

Those who reject death should cease to give birth,
For the day a child is born, he begins to die,
Rejecting death is living a lie,
Accepting it dries the reason to cry.

A man who fears death is one afraid to live,
The fear of death cages the soul,
It clouds the mind and dims the light,
But death is an appointment, and I am prepared to meet it.

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These same words now make a huge mockery of me,
For they heed not when I bid them come,
Desperately I call out but farther away they go,
My thoughts now remain thoughts,
My emotions are now buried in a cemetery within my heart,
The few words within my reach are so random and stale,
They bluntly refuse to coalesce into theme, form and setting,
In frustration, I now take solace,
Unto the Heavens, I wholeheartedly seek for grace,
To give words to thoughts and meaning to emotions,
With feeble hands, I now wield the golden sceptre of writing,
A shadow of myself, I am gradually becoming,
Slowly losing my very essence and creative identity,
My whole spirit has fallen into chaos,
And my soul now drowns in turbulence,
Both craving a release of these pent-up energy,
At what point did my heart reach this plateau phase?,
Momentarily having potential but lacking action,
An influx of calcium might just be the case,
I truly miss my brush and canvas,
With which I once painted beautiful pictures of words.

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Even in the face of adversities, great men defy their emotions and hold on to faith.

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Absurd hunger for women, insatiable thirst for alcohol and uncontrolled love for money are lethal weapons of man's destruction.

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This unending quest to become all that we dream of sometimes takes away the joy that lies in the present moment.

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If I were you, I would do it now.
The present moment is the only reality that exists, yesterday is long gone and tomorrow is not yet born.
The urge to shift tasks is borne out of the illusion that time is unlimited.
If you must pray, do it now.
If you love to sing, never delay for a second.
If there are books to be read, do not hesitate for a minute.
If you miss someone, call them today.
If you love someone, profess your love now.
If you must speak, do not wait for tomorrow.
If you have to write, pick up a pen now.
Take a step towards achieving your dreams today.
The present moment is all you have, make the most of it.
There may be no tomorrow.

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There is no such thing as "sudden death" for the very day a man is born, he gradually begins to die.

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To read is human but to recall is divine.

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