Choose to Believe

Am I too old to believe
Am I too blind to see
Where's the God of Miracles
Told in Bible Stories?

Have I grown out of it
Is my faith not strong enough
Where's the God of Miracles
To tell me it's not fluff?

If Faith can move mountains
And Grace move knees to bend
Where's Your Love
To help me comprehend?

Is my mind too cluttered
Is my spirit deceived?
Somewhere between my soul and mind,
I still choose to believe.

That Faith can move mountains
And I'm not too old to trust
That You're the God of Miracles
And Your love will outlast.

Little One

I know the stars will light your way
Each and every single day
Because they won't want you to stray
Stray away.

You know you needn't be afraid
Of the mean little words they said
You can stay here safe in bed
Instead.

Relax, your little hands
Keep still, your little feet
One day you'll learn to stand
There's no need to rush to it.
Hold on, don't grow so fast
There's no going back you know
Soon, all this will be the past
And you'll wish that it was slow.
Little one; little one
Don't chase the sun.

One day soon you will know
That there'll be rain as well as snow
Through all this you'll learn to grow
Hello.

So relax, your little hands
Keep still, your little feet
One day you'll learn to stand
There's no need to rush to it.
Hold on, don't grow so fast
There's no going back you know
Soon, all this will be the past
And you'll wish that it was slow.
Little one; little one
Don't chase the sun.

There's plenty of time to talk about the world and all it's problems
But a time will come where you and I must try to solve them
Little one; little one
Don't chase the sun.

You Are More

You are more
More than the past you've left behind
More than the battle in your mind
More than the future that is ahead
You are more than that

More than the struggle of choosing
More than the pain you're bracing 
More than the nagging behind your back
You are more than that 

You are more than the words that they say you are
You are more than the voice saying, "you can't get far."
You are more than a ship stuck on the shore
You are more; you are more
You are more than the piece that wants to fit in
You are more than what this world is saying
You are more than that let them here you roar
"You are more; You are more."

More than the clothes on your skin
More than the face on the magazine
More than the cash that you spat
You are more than that

You are capable, admirable, talented and strong
You have a home where you belong
You are beautiful, in every way. You are more
So don't let them hurt you anymore.

The Cup of Suffering

Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…

He started the Lord’s Prayer in front of his congregation. He took his time as he enunciated every distinct syllable in the prayer that he has uttered for all his Christian life.

…Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done…

He shakes a little as the weight of his burden feels like it has increased tenfold. He imagines that this was how the Lord felt like when he prayed for his yoke to be taken away from him. While in the midst of the prayer, he says a silent one in his heart – that he would have the strength to finish this.

…on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread.

He has said this prayer more times than he can remember. But it didn't mean it came out any easier. As his congregation with their heads silently bowed wait patiently with the elements of communion – a piece of bread and a cup of ‘wine’ – in their hands, he wonders if any of them are sleeping. He knew many of them by name – His sheep that he has been shepherding for many years – and now he is up on the pulpit once again to deliver the Holy Communion. The elders have told him that this would probably be his last time on the pulpit as his health is deteriorating.  

And forgive us our depts., as we forgive our debtors.

How many in his congregation still have anger toward their own? He remembers the amount of marriage ceremonies he has conducted, but also the troubling flood of divorce cases. He remembers being the center of family feuds over the will of the deceased. He remembers the stories he has been told of his sheep being hurt by wolves in sheepskin. He is troubled. He has preached about forgiveness, but he knows the message has fallen on deaf ears.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…

Where was temptation? Where was evil? He knew the answer but did not want to admit it. Oftentimes, the source of evil in his church has come from the members themselves – the seeds of temptation sown by crafty wolves disguising themselves as sheep. He knew they were among his sheep now – eyeing their next prey. He felt overwhelming anger and pity for those men. He also found it ironic that the place that should have been the most holy of places has become the place of most deceit. The idiom was true it seemed that where we think we are strongest is where the devil strikes the hardest. He has planted this church on fertile ground, but the evil one has thrown in some weeds. And now he decided was the time for the harvest – to separate the good plants from the weeds, the wheat from the thorns. It was not an easy decision but he knew it had to be done. His sheep had to be purified. As fire purifies steel, he was ready to purify his congregation.

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.

He heard the unison amen. The voices of both the thorns and the wheat spoke the same language. He would never be able to tell them apart. The thorns, the weeds, and wolves are in his congregation like a poison that is slowly deteriorating his wheat, his good plants, and sheep.

Amen.

He raises his left hand that held on to a piece of bread. He puts it over his head, reaches for it with his right hand and breaks the bread. He gives the signal and as a body, they eat the bread together. They all eat together. The sheep and the wolves in sheepskin. The prey and the innocent. He couldn't tell them apart. He knows only God could be the judge.

He reaches for the cup and raises it above his head. He hesitates a moment. He knew this was his last time on the pulpit. He wanted to take in the moment. He says a few words about his appreciation of their faithfulness. He bites back the need to say something about the wolves among them because he did not want to pollute the innocent. He gives the signal and the congregation downs the beverage in unison. He notes the acidity of the wine. He chokes. As he falls onto the floor he hears the cries from his sheep and the wolves. He hears nothing more. He feels nothing more.  

He knows that only God can judge between the sheep and the wolves. Only God knows the true intentions of men. And what better way to free his congregation of the possibility of being  eaten by wolves in his absence then to send them to God early to be judged? He could not trust his naïve young leaders; they were not ready. He has struggled with this cup of suffering for many years; what did the other leaders know about leading a congregation? He knew killing was a sin, but his intentions, he felt, was justified. After all, God will be his judge. 

Perfect - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Fragments

I woke up three days later with the chief shouting cusses to the nurse.  He stopped as soon as he realized my eyes were open.  

“Thomason,” said the chief, “you awake?”

“Please, inspector,” said the nurse, “He needs his rest.”

“No, the last thing I need is rest,” I said to the shock of the nurse.  To jolt her more, I sat up and took the IV needle out of my arm.

“Please, sir,” she pleaded, “We do not know whether you have been affected in any way with the bullets.”

“All three bullets did not reach any critical areas in my body.” I never liked being confined.  The nurse gave me a weird look and checked the record at the foot of my bed.

“Sir,” she said after looking through it again, “There were four bullets: One in your thigh, one in your shin, one in your shoulder, and the last at the back of your neck.”

I immediately reached at the back of my neck and realized the gauze wrapping it.  The slight touch of the wound sent tremendous pain and I blacked out for a moment before I managed to stabilize myself. 

“Get back on your bed, please!” The nurse was worried.  I complied.

“How long will I have to be here?” I asked the nurse.

“We don’t know the extent of you injury, we have yet to check for any memory, sensory, and physical impairment.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” I asked, “Let us get those tests started.”

“No, you need a break.” The chief’s words were firm. “We don’t need another shooting case that big.  You know it grabbed international headlines?  The Mayor called me yesterday to ask me about you and about your past, but I couldn’t give her anything.  I know you are good people, Thomason, but I can’t have you getting shot at and cause another panic.  I’m putting Sam and Lily on your case. Whatever that is you were working on, I want you to pass it to them when they come, you understand?”

I stared at the boss for a while. I could sense the anger building inside of him and also a hint of concern.  The boss was not the best in controlling his emotions, and Sam and Lily were not the best in taking this case—I was. 

“You are putting the wrong people in charge, chief,” I said, “Sam and Lily will probably get killed following my trail.  This case is deeper than you know it and it is only important to me.”

“Thomason, you know personal involvement in cases is prohibited.” The chief was furious.  I shouldn’t have told him I was involved.

“Hand your case over to Sam and Lily when you return,” the chief said and before I could retaliate, he said, “and that’s an order.”

I did not nod to show understanding I just sat there staring at him blankly.  After a while, the chief spat a word and left the room.  The nurse went back to attending to me and reinserted the needle. 

“You would be here for at maximum two months.” She told me, but I know that for me that would only mean two weeks.  I decided to spend the week plotting my next move.  I considered confronting Colleen again, but that would only mean suicide.  What can I get that he has not already given? I know he was involved with my history in some way or another and it seems like he could be my antagonist from the past. It is a good thing that he did not know who I was. 

I gave in to boredom of thinking and fell asleep, and this time my dream was different:  Sounds of sirens fill the air.  Men in white lab coats with panicked faces run about the room—all as white as their lab coats. A troop of black uniformed men arrive in an orderly fashion and proceed to the stasis tube across the hall from me.  The stasis tube had cracked…

“…the…hope…you…!”A naked man shouts as he storms towards the black-uniformed men, “Control…more!”

“Keep…alive!” yelled one of the men in lab coats, “…billions…worth than…!”

The naked man advances on the black men. The men open fire.  The naked man stares directly at me before bullets fly through him.

I startled awake and wondered what my dream meant.  I noticed that next to the hospital bed was a radio. The newscasters were talking about some other country in peril and another natural disaster that happened one thousand and thirty-two miles away before they got to the local news.  It would seem that my shooting incident was a big local event and there were still reports of it on the news except for some odd twists in the truth.  The news reported that Dr. Colleen was threatened in his office by an armed man who took a hostage and led the hostage into an ambush zone.  The news reported that a certain detective – brave as he was – came to the rescue of the hostage and is now receiving treatment at a hospital. Well, I guess it’s a believable story, except for the fact that the so-called “armed-man” doesn’t get a conclusion.  A cliff hanger as plain as daylight is left hanging in front of all the listeners but none of them would bother. After all, the last line on the news said that the “authorities” had a list of suspects and were handling the situation. The naivety of society I would conclude.  Is that enough for people? Do people believe everything the media feeds them no matter how farfetched it may seem?

           

Lost in my thoughts, it took me some time to realize that the news was over and the radio was now playing a song by Ryan and the Renegades entitled Listen with your Heads.

The raindrops roll down the window pane

The flowers grow from a tiny grain

There is logic in there

Or am I insane?

The question we should all be asking

Is whether we believe in what they tell us.

Are we gonna be zombies, the living dead?

Or are we gonna start listening with our heads?

Listen with your heads!

Listen with your heads!

Question everything sung or said

Even my words as they leave this mouth

Should be analyzed and raided

Let us not be naïve; Let us not be deceived.

The world is never as it seems…

The perfect song for the scenario. I wondered if the radio channel actually knew that they were promoting the end of their careers with that song. The media feeds the people and the people fall for it – it is as clear as that.  But, who influences the media? How did that one event that took place in daylight become so twisted in facts? Was the media fed by the government? I mean, it is always about the government right?

It was then that I realized that there were ways to find out more – to dig deeper.  If I could trace the source, I could trace it to the people who want to cover this up.  They will have answers.  I had a plan, but I still needed to wait for at least a week before the hospital would allow me to leave.

On the first week of my confinement, Sam and Lily arrived.  Sam is a middle-aged man with a beer belly.  He is half-way bald and probably never fired his gun more than ten times in his twenty-two years and six months on the force.  Lily is a naïve girl three months fresh out of the academy.  She is book smart and lacks any field experience besides her probation.  I was right. Sam and Lily were really not the best for this case.

“You know why we are here, Detective,” announced Sam with his hoarse, tobacco-filled breath, “Just tell us where yer keeping all the files on your recent case and we’ll be outta ya hair.” I contemplated many ways to answer Sam. His commanding tone deserved a harsh reply. I considered answering him like the chief, but I told myself that there are many better word supplements than swearing.  All I could manage was:

“You know the funny things about a bullet grazing your skull, Sam?” I pointed at the back of my neck, “Memory tends to get a little fuzzy – I would say something like 50dpi?”

Sam gave me a funny look and all Lily did was snicker at my sarcasm (or was it at her partner’s lack of comprehension?). 

“Well, if you remember then, give me a call ‘right, Thomason?” Sam said after shaking his head, “This is our case now, you don’t go and be a lone ranger, yer hear me?”

I stared at him until he left muttering something the chief would. Lily snickered again and left.  I took a mental note to consider calling on Lily if ever needed – she had a sharp mind.  Just then my bedside phone rang and I picked up. Samantha Lee was on the other end. I had asked her to take care of Simon in my absence and she has been calling me frequently to update me about Simon. Our conversation went somewhat like this:

“Hey, Adam? I mean Detective Adam.”

“Hey, Samantha, how’s Simon?”

“He misses you. I caught him trying to sneak out of the house and when I let him leave I followed him to your place. How are you holding up?”

“Sounds, like Simon. I’m doing fine. Hey, when you went over to my place was there anything unusual?”

“Not that I could notice, why? Is everything alright? Are there people looking for you?” I could read her panic in her voice.  She was probably looking around her house checking to see she was not followed.

“Nothing to worry about, Sam,” I allowed myself to laugh a little to calm her nerves, “Can you do me a favour?” I waited for her reply before continuing.  Involving her may have its consequences but she was the only person I could trust at this point of time. “The keys to my apartment are under the twenty-ninth flowerpot in the park nearest my place.  Can you go to my place and get my case file by the title of “Colleen” and bring it to the hospital? Thanks.”

I ended the call knowing that I have trusted the right person.  Waiting for Samantha to arrive, I drifted off into another dream. 

“Ten is down! Get him back into the tube!” The black-uniformed men rushed in and grabbed the naked man and carried him into a tube.  A man with thick glasses and a shaved head stands in my view staring at me and yells.

“Thirteen…awake! He saw everything. He has…go as well.”

“No!” Another lab-coated yelled, “Billions…wasted…successful…we...erase memory?”

I jolted awake.  Everything I dreamt about felt like it really happened.  They felt real almost as if it was a memory. I remembered how Samantha told me that my dreams could be suppressed memories manifesting itself in my sleep.  I tried to think back on the dream.  I did my best to memorize the place from the dream.  I noted every detail I could remember.  All these fragments seem to be fitting together like a colossal puzzle.

Fact or Fiction - Theme Song

Verse I

I miss you so

I miss your smile

I miss the way you hold your hair

And twirl it round and round

I miss you so

Verse II 

I miss those nights

I miss your warmth

I miss those days when we could talk

And go on for so long

I miss you so

Pre-Chorus

It's nights like these that's got me thinking

It's nights like these I'm reminiscing

Chorus

Were we fact or were we fiction

Could what we both dream come to  fruition

Were we living as one

Before we said that we were done

Was it love or infatuation

Were we young and in delusion 

Time has come and slowly shown..

That 'what ifs' could never be known

Verse III

Remember how

We talked about

How we'll build our dreams

Upon our sacred ground

We were so young

Bridge

And we lose ourselves into the fact

That happily ever afters were  just that

They were hope shared to our lost souls                           

A rope so we won't let hope go

The chance that there's somebody

Like me

Chorus II

Are we fact or are we fiction

Could what we both dream come to  fruition

Can we try to live as one

Before we say that there's no chance

Is it love or infatuation

Let's be young and in delusion 

Let time come and slowly show..

The 'what ifs' that we're yet to know.

Bridge II

Let us lose ourselves to the fact

That nothing in this world is truly set

That we have a choice to accept

Or hold on to what is left

The chance that there's somebody

for me

The Cry and His Reply

One man raises his voice to the hills
Another man humbles himself and kneels
Still one more throws his fist in the air
One man asks, "Show Yourself, if you care."

One more begs aloud to be heard
One more mourns and shaves his beard
One more cries 'til tomorrow's dawn
Another man sings a heavenly song

One man slams the keys and shouts,
"Lord, please chase away my doubts!"
One man takes on more than he can chew,
To silence the pain that's in me and you.

One man wears a smiling face
Thinking that with it he can erase
The hurt, the fears, and uncertainties.
But they flood back like rushing seas

One son asks where is his dad
Where's the one to teach him good from bad.
He doubts he'll find a father's love
Neither on this earth nor high above.

One selfless mother prays with tears
That God would drive away her fears
As her little one lies in a hospital bed
She pleads, "God, can you take me instead?"

One little daughter sings in church
About the One on high she has researched
She's not too sure of the words she hums
She's not too sure of the chords she strums.

All their cries fill up the sky
And they all start to question why

Why does He stay silent in the clouds
When His voice is supposed to be thunder-loud?
Why is He hidden in the heavens
When it can't contain His presence?

And between their cry and His reply
Rose a silent song from High
And they knew it was from Him
Though they knew not the words to the hymn

Between their cry and His reply
The earth as if stood by
And He did not shout His answer
It came in a soft and gentle whisper.

He said, "Fear not you aching hearts,

For I have seen you from the start.

Steer your weary souls to Me

And I will give you liberty.

"Fret not, for I am here

For I have always been so near.

I've heard your songs; I've heard your pleas.

I've heard your chords; I've heard your keys.

"The mother's cry; The father's sigh

Not one of them has passed me by.

The little ones' pleas; the man on his knees.

No, not one, I did not see."

Between the cry and His reply

The earth as if stood by

And peace came in and cleared the drought

And it eased the heart and cleared the doubts.