Travelling signature

I believe in time travel....
I hope after this, you will believe together with me.

There are days i stare, my eyes, these brown searching eyes knock on unopened doors,
peep through the empty key holes of existence just to see beyond what lies in front of me.
I've been to places my physical self either only dreams of or anticipates to be.
I've stared into my daughters eyes numerous times: yet she is still awaiting to be ushered into life by two spirit beings wrapped in flesh to celebrate God and welcome her home. Yes, spirit beings because we really are so much spirit, flesh is just an add on.
I've held her soft unscathed hands in my experienced palm, watched her tiny fingers and palm move on mine as i think,
your skin is part of mine.
I've walked on sandy shores alone: praying, speaking, laughing, crying, all without leaving the focus of my blank stare.
I've gone to the past,
remembering failed friendships and relationships, fights with my family as the present me just stands there and watches me, not angrily, but with a sombre gaze and a warm whisper 'it will all make sense.' to crack the icy world the past me had crafted.
I remember growing up with naivety and genius both intertwined in the crevices of my mind.
Memories of my first drinking spree with my friends rush in this one stare,
dark hallway, drink in hand, lady in sight but how i forfeited the lady i had eyes on for the one i could place my hand on.
I remember the fights, the blood flying slowly as if to the sound of slow opera, almost like art, and how my almost numbed heart had loved it.
I remember the friends lost from the snare of cold words,
words that i had allowed to shape me, to craft me,
words that sub-consciously were taking the place of my breath,
my lungs were filled with poisoned words received and just like air, they too found their way out.
I remember slipping out of class when young, sitting in the gents with a knife caressing my wrist as class went on,
and going back to class with a smile like nothing had happened.
See in a quick but short stare i remember the journey, i remember the past and hide in the future knitting together these two threads of reality with the thread of my present.
I remember repentance, unmerited forgiveness for me and in the depth of the mist that i had lived in
I could finally see light and how it all fits in:
seeing my daughter struggle to feel physically loved to quench emotional and spiritual thirst and i know right then why i craved the same.
I see my son come home angry with blood on his shirt and i know why i was the same.
On some days It hurt to be me yet in the prism of life Gods light sheds abroad and i see the bigger, beautiful picture.
I hear 'daddy why do i have to go through this?' and in joy i see that i can finally have an answer, not to all their questions but to those God allowed me to live in.

I learn to love my purpose-full tears as we are called to be the salt of the earth and no wonder, my tears have the largest components of salt. Who would have known they carried healing!

I see my wife, her in her splendor and glow, radiant and the envy of all precious jewels, i see her beyond the smile and beyond the frown, i see her, beyond, yet here.
I revel in our journey, separate and together even before we say i do,
similar yet different; birthed together in the womb of purpose and Agape.

I see the future, it is close, as close as two strangers smiling not knowing they will journey together,
close though it may feel never reaching.
I know why my scars exist but i know why my smile does as well.

God made it for you. We were made for testimony, bearing witness to intricately woven strands of grace piecing together our past, present and future.
With every prick of life's needle, i shall bear the pain, the hurt, the laughs so well hidden in the mines of life that i was so afraid to enter not knowing all that would encompass me were explosions of joy.

See, I believe in time travel.  As i sat here, staring at the thickets outside my window get battered by the rain, i couldn't help but notice something beautiful. Something that felt like poetry when i saw leaves cradle droplets of rain, gently; mother-like, releasing drop by drop to the earth in a slow but incandescent manner. Indeed, time stood still. I couldn't help but feel like the drop of rain commissioned to strike at the heart of the soil, leaving the signature of the cloud that sent me, one day to return to the very clouds having fulfilled all i was meant to, not just for me, but for where i was gently dropped.

I remember when it hit me like a gush of cold wind that for you, i shall bear the soil, the winds and the boots, if just to water you and i remember when i loved to know that.

As i sit here, I believe in time travel, the purpose of all things merging

merging together that i may be a signature of my Cloud.

SLOW FADES

A dark cloud has been brooding over us for ages. The thing about dark clouds that everybody knows: they are pregnant with rain. I hear the question when did the rain start to beat us and i ask, when did we begin to think we didn't need an umbrella? We were probably in a hurry and never really thought it would rain even though that dark menacing cloud was speaking to us. When our hearts were ok without umbrellas, is really when the rain begun to beat us. Let me explain.

The first time i came across porn was in primary school, can't quite remember what class though. We were huddled up in the house of a younger kid than me, one who was quite rich i should add and the excitement in the air was almost tangible. As i saw these naked people, in the midst of my carnal pleasures, there was a spark lingering in my dark heart that was asking, how did they get there? At the time my main concern was not that it was sex but that it was public and that was my problem number 1.

Every human being has an internal desire to feel loved. The form of love though can be varied and at most times, skewed. Our hearts for ages have embraced a desire to be gratified by any means necessary. Sexual perversion has been placed in the core of our minds and hearts and to see the recent happenings at the coast come to light is just an example of the slow fade that this has brought.

Let's not be fooled, bestiality has been going on for long before the Mombasa story ever hit the eye. Men have been known to satisfy sexual urges by preying on varying animals that i need not mention for the sake of mental sobriety. The things we watch, listen to have sold self gratification to unprecedented levels. We no longer have value for ourselves. Things such as masturbation have now become a norm as much as many would not like to admit. When a lady in porn was using a carrot or cucumber, people had no problem. When a man would use a fruit or a similar object, nobody objected. The undertones here are quite severe. If we treat our sexual organs as though all they are worth is to be gratified, made to feel good, then of course over time we'll want more and more, better and better and eventually move from inanimate tools to animate ones such as animals.

This heart of man is deceitful. When talking with some friends, i tried to pick their mind on what was so wrong with the incidence concerning the ladies at the coast and many just said it being a dog was the problem. As much as i understand the magnitude of that, it did not just start there. The deceit of the heart had been at work over years, killing value for the individual, reducing them from being a full human being to just respecting their vagina not for the sacredness of it but as a means to an end.. By the time you begin to envision penetrating an animal or an animal penetrating you, even before the act itself, you really have killed your self worth. 

How then can we redeem this because as i said, it starts as a slow fade. From 'innocent porn' to masturbation  to full out sex with anything as by that point all you want is that orgasm so as to feel fulfilled. I think we should come to terms with the fact that we have been selling ourselves short, that we have been equating our manhood to the have and use of a penis and diminishing womanhood to the have and use of a vagina. It takes honesty to rid ourselves of this and also a determination to set an example for our children. Some will dismiss these necessities until their daughter turns into a teenager and starts to do worse than what their mother or father used to do and by then you will not be able to do a thing as how can you show her otherwise when you have never interacted with something different.

Something needs to change and something needs to change fast. We need to rethink who we are beyond wanting to be made to feel good, to be gratified because one day when your gratification does not come and the world of depression has set in and you are desperate for that sexual high knowing very well that you have tried 'everything' there is and are not getting satisfied, you may just be the person spoken about next. The change begins with us as we invest for our children, our nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters or friends. If not, we'll keep being in a hurry, leaving the umbrella in its usual corner as we run out laughing at the dark cloud above us and cursing when the rain beats us again, and again and again. Kill the slow fade. 

It starts with us.