The Funeral of a Friend

Today marked a sad day, it was funeral of a good friend of mine. I wouldn't really call him my friend per se, but I can vouch that he was a good person. He was the kind of person that everyone wish they could be. When you needed a hand, he was always glad to give it plus more. When you just needed to talk, he was your silent comforter. When there was something to be done, he was the person to get things done. Name it, he did it. Events, parties, mission trips, visitations, meetings. He was always there, and even when he wasn't he made tremendous effort to catch up. He made me jealous. I was jealous at his ability to carry on. I was jealous at his strive for excellence. He conquered whatever the world had in store for him. From the little things like washing the cups and mopping the floor, to holding a meeting and planning a huge event. He was in every ministry, yet he never complained. Not always anyways...

I remember he once said that he was tired, but he had no choice but to continue as no one else was able to take up the responsibility. He never liked leaving things half done. He never liked unfinished business. He persevered even from the most mundane tasks to the most complicated formulation. He did his best in everything. 

Over the years, he just looked more and more tired. Over the years, his strength waned. But he still carried on. In every ministry and more. He gave his all. Even with all the workload, he never gave up a chance for a good one-on-one with whoever was around him. He remembered the names of almost everyone, and he kept updated. How he found the time, I'll never know, but as I sat there hearing the floods of testimonies about this good man who gave all he had, I can't help but be dumbfounded and ashamed. There were orphans who went up to talk about the times he spent celebrating Christmas with them. There were a group of singers who sang one of the saddest songs I've ever heard and said that he never missed any of their performances...and the list is endless. From homeless men to rich investors, there was not one area of life that he didn't touch. 

Well, the sad news is this. He is gone and we have to bare the absence of our beloved brother, devoted anchor, and loving friend. We have to bare the absence of a man who truly was self-sacrificial. 

Who can replace him? Who can even try? The commitment he handled alone would be overwhelming for any one man. Who can we call upon now when something needs cleaning or some soul nears an ear? Who can we call upon now when someone needs a lift that is out of the way?

I end this speech with this quote: "It has never been about what life had to offer me, it has been about what am I doing with this life I'm given."

You will be truly missed our dear brother, may you find the reward that you have earned tenfold over. 

Rest in Peace, Someone Else. 





*this is a fictional work*

East Sun - Chapter One

Chapter One - The Stirring (Incomplete)

“I am the king!” Jarius slammed one fist on his royal throne as he pointed another at the man standing in front of him.

“Are you forgetting who put you there?” Calm as he always was, Avenzel rested upon his staff in the center of the throne room surrounded by Jarius’ counselmen, as he spoke, 

“Jarius, have you forgotten what it means to be king, what it means to be the lord of the Aeden throne? I have told you from the very start that the burden upon your shoulders would be far too great for any one man to carry, and the power, far too tempting for any one man to bear. It was not for your strengths that you became the chosen king; it was by your potential. Yes, Jarius, you are the king, and now act like one.”

There were some gasps from the council as Avenzel spoke those words. No one else would dare to speak to Lord Jarius in this manner. The law allowed Jarius to execute anybody who offends him especially within his throne room. Jarius had brought the kingdom of Aeden back from ruins. His councilroom was testament to the fact with its rounded hall and seven supporting pillars that seemed to take forever to reach the ceiling that was painted like the heavens. The thirteen lesser thrones surrounding the Aeden throne adorned with gold encircled the counselroom. A path between two lesser thrones that led directly to the middle of the room began at the main grand entrance. Protecting the main entrance of the counselroom stood a gate so grand that it requires two men to open.  The wealth of the nation could be seen painted on the walls, pillars, and ceiling as though creation was birthed from this place.

“Avenzel, do not use your wise words against me! I owe you a great debt for your service to me, but I would not be silent as you mock me in front of my counsel.”

“Can’t you see that you have been blinded? My child, open your eyes to see that the so-called wisdom that you have consulted has scaled your eyes. The words in whisper are the hardest to forget and so are the words of spite. Hatred has been planted, Jarius, do not let it win.”

“Can you listen to this old man any longer, my Lord?” Shaphira, the governor of the northern territories of Flynt and Barbiscus who sat two thrones away from the king's right, could not hold her tongue any longer, “Avenzel, you have been excused from the court with dignity, do you want to be escorted out with nothing left?”

“Woman, do you think I care about trivial face and social piety?” Avenzel’s stare though wrinkled with age lingered with determination and fire, “This is a matter beyond any of you so-called counselmen. You have excused me as a member of counsel, yes, but I am here as a citizen of Aeden and have every right to seek the king for an audience as stated in our laws.  You can lock yourselves in the emerald rooms that you possess later, but be you all warned that there is a fire burning from the very foundations of this soil!”

“Shaphira,” The King spoke, “Did I call upon your counsel? It would do you good to know your place in this hierarchy. As for your ‘concern’, my dear friend, it holds no importance in this court; you may leave if there be naught left to be said.”

“There is one more thing to be said,” Avenzel gazed as the floor as if contemplating his next words, “You are all fools to think that you are above what is coming. As in the words of the prophet Enzer, ‘the council will not be deaf but still would not hear; they will not be blind but still would not see...’”

“You were the very one who told me that Enzer was a nut.”

“Yes, I did call him that. Not for his wisdom, but for his stubbornness. He saw no better time than the present and was rash in his actions and words. Much like how you are rash in dismissing me.”

“Guards, take him away!” No one could ever testify to have seen the king lose his anger as such before, but before the guards could lay a hand on him, Avenzel turned around to face them and the guards stayed their place. Avenzel’s gaze was terrifying as he walked out of the counselroom unescorted.  The sound of the king’s agony was cut short by the shutting of the great doors that stood at the entrance of the counselroom.

As Avenzel walked past the gates of the multitudes of men and women waiting in line to gain audience with the king, he whispered the lyrics of an old rhyme:

Listen to the old for their stories to be told

Listen to the wise for their stories in their eyes

Listen to the brave for their stories in their days

Listen, oh you, young; the fire has begun

Beyond the setting star rises a mist upon the ground

And through the misty clouds no nature can be found

What lies beyond the peaks of Carringon’s Steep?

What moves in the night while we lay asleep?

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As the evening drew and the last of the citizens in line to see the king departed, Jarius rose from his throne, strode behind it, passed the golden high curtains, and fell into his resting chamber. His counselmen knew better than to question his haste exit, they knew that Avenzel had a knack at getting on the king’s nerves as well as pretty much everyone else, but peace was beyond him that evening. Jarius laid there reclined on his mattress staring into the ceiling as he pondered on the words of Avenzel, and though he hated to admit it, he knew that Avenzel often spoke true.

Avenzel was probably the only man he could truly trust – not even his counselmen had his full confidence. Avenzel was the man that made it possible for him to be king. Avenzel was the man who saw the potential in his scrawny limbs. It was Avenzel who plucked him out of poverty when he was just a youth and entrusted him within the care of the palace stables. It was Avenzel that recommended him to be the next Captain of the Stallions after Rider Mavin retired, and it was Avenzel that got the counsel to make him the king after Lord Jolan was killed in battle. Avenzel was in every step, and yet Jarius never truly understood why. Avenzel has never been clear about his attentions to Jarius. Whenever he was asked why, Avenzel would reply with some wise words such as ‘time unfolds all questions and answers them with patience’ or ‘a man who knows his destiny may fall short of it.’  That was Avenzel: always speaking in riddles. 

Deep in his thinking, Jarius did not hear someone approaching and he jumped the moment a feminine face appeared in his line of sight. He sat up to see a beautiful face with a beautiful smile; Kanra, his third wife from Lokyeshin, giggled, “Sorry, did I startle the king?”

“You can’t startle the king,” He replied. All his worries forgotten for a moment, Jarius put a smile on his face. “Nothing happens without the king knowing it. I merely acted startled to entertain you.” They both laughed at the lie.  He held her hands in his. “What brings you into my humble abode?”

“You’re late for dinner, and the entire royal family is hungry.” At that Jarius turned out his window to realize that the sun had set and the city was quiet.

“Sorry, Kanra, I was troubled.” Kanra went closer into his embrace at those words.

“I heard that the old man paid you a visit?”

“Yes, he did, but that is a matter for another time. As they say, lay aside troubles for the night, as good sleep solves most of them.”

“Good sleep and good wine.”

“Come,” said Jarius after a laugh, “Let’s eat.” Jarius held Kanra's hand as the headed for the banquet hall, but before leaving, Jarius turns back to the window and sees the small lights from the houses below. He sees the point where the sky touches the earth.  He sees the massive towering mountain whose three main peaks could be clearly made out in the darkness.  He sees what seems to be a small light emerging from the middle peak.

“Daydreaming again?” Kanra said tugging his hand. Jarius steals one more stare at the window before following her out the door. 

He could never refuse Kanra. One could say she was his favorite of his three wives. He married his first, Aeshen, due to his kingly duties to keep Jolan’s bloodline. Aeshen is Jolan’s niece and she was the youngest of marriageable age, but still four years older than Jarius. She has been loyal, but she has always been a little too picky about the finer details. Senphin, his second wife, was another political marriage to stop the territory of Calaphan from revolting. Though she would be considered the most beautiful among the three, she was also the most cunning and deceptive. Until now Jarius rarely confides in her, not knowing her true intentions. Kanra was his controversial wife. For the first time in Aeden’s history, the king took a wife that was not of any noble families, but it was not surprising knowing Jarius’ roots. Kanra became his anchor to reality and her charitable heart far outweighed her lack of education.  Kanra was his childhood friend. His sister from the street stables and they grew up together. Kanra was a waitress at the shack of a restaurant in which he worked as a hay boy, and the lessons they learnt from there thought them how much they needed each other.

As they approached the banquet hall, Jarius could hear the sounds of his starving family – particularly the cries of Fosten, his youngest son and third child from Senphin.

“You’re late,” mentioned Fizgard, Aeshen’s second son six years in age, as Jarius and Kanra entered the room, “Shara was going to swallow her tongue soon.”

“Fizgard, know your place!” warned Aeshen, “He may be your father, but he too is the king and they both deserve your respect.”

“Yes, Mother.” Gloom took over Fizgard’s face as he sat back upon his seat. 

Jarius chuckled at the cacophony in the throne room and proceeded to his seat. When Jarius became king, he insisted that the banguet tables be circular to show equality, but after much debate with the royal hall planners, everyone agreed to an oval table. Jarius passed by Fizgard and patted him on the head before reaching his seat.

“Forgive my tardiness,” He said, “I was resting and I forgot about the time.” 

As is the tradition of Aeden, the whole table went silent as Jarius pronounced thanks and blessings, "For the meal before us and the meals to come, for the life in us and the strength we have. May we give as we've been given, and may we be ever thankful." 

The family responded in unison, "To be ever thankful."

With that, the food on the table was uncovered and the meat was brought out to be served. When he first became king, Jarius refused to eat glamorous food when his nation was going through a rough time and he supplied the palace excess to feed the people. It was only when he brought Aeden back to prosperity that he actually began eating meals fit for a king. That was the type of king Jarius was. Because of his sacrifices, he earned the trust of his people.  He was the people’s pleaser and often went to great lengths to help those that needed help often to the disagreement of Aeshen and especially Senphin. 

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Starring out into the fortress of Aeden from his succor in the mountains, Verender puts his fire out as he readies to rest. He sees the lights in the secret resting room of the king dim and he is reminded of the past.  Though an outcast of Aeden due to his weakness in the Calaphan revolt, Verender is still highly loyal to the Aeden throne. Because of his shame, he fled into the mountain that stood behind the castle and has imposed an exile on himself. Verender was Jarius’ Captain of the Archers and he felt responsible when one of his men opened fire into an innocent Calaphanene boy. It was under his watch that the Calaphan feud became the Calaphan revolt and he retired from his position when the issue was resolved - after Senphin was taken as Jarius’ bride.

As he lay there in his self-imposed exile, he could not help but think of the many things he could have done to prevent that young boy from dying. After the whole incident, Verender visited Calaphan to seek the boy’s family for forgiveness. He learnt that the boy was the first and only son of elderly farmers. After the boy’s birth, there were some complications and the woman could not conceive again. The boy’s name was Hienavon which meant god-sent. When he met Hienavon’s parents and told them of his 

involvement in their son’s death, they simply gave him a slight smile and said that as Hienavon was god-sent, he could also be taken away. They thanked him for his honor and bravery which did not make Verender feel any better. He was hoping to have the town turn against him as vengeance for Hienavon, but living with the guilt was a far heavier punishment.

After six years in the wilderness, many think Verender dead. He left without a word and has yet to utter one for close to four years. At first he talked to himself to drive insanity away, but soon he embraced it. As his head lay on his makeshift pillow of deer skin, he hears the rumblings from beneath the earth and his eyes widen. With that he speaks the first words that he has muttered in years:

“One by one, they came to seek

For the ancient words they want to speak

But the words were lost as was the art

No man left around could the words impart

But in the ground beneath the Steep

Lies an ancient power deep asleep

And as he awakes from his eternal rest

The ancient words will rise to test

Every man left will have to stand

The Aeden throne for every man.”

As he mutters the last line of this old-forgotten folksong, he rises from his mid-slumber and runs without rest to the gates of Aeden.

Colorblind

Let not the words of divide,
Cause us to stand on our pride
Let not the actions of a few
Become hatred's burning fuel

Let not the color of our skin, 

Make the nation fight within

Let not the intentions of scheming men, 

Cause us to fight our fellow friend

Let us stand united as living proof
That we can all live under one roof
Let us learn to put all these behind,
Let us learn to be colorblind.

My Lesson From Jay

Cast

1. Jay
2. Young N

3. N2 (Fatherly voice)

4. Older N

5. Girl

*Camera view*

Scene (S): *Pan view of house then to bird cage (Windows full of sunlight would be nice). Some soothing music playing in the background*

Narrator (N): We once had a pet bird named Jay. Jay was a little on the wild side. We never really played with her much, as we couldn't let her out of her cage in fear that she would take off.  So we tried to tame her. We tried for the longest time. 

S: Feeding Jay. Attempt to play with Jay. *Cut different scenes together with soft transitions*

N: She would chirp all through the night until one day we decided to let her go free...

S: Outside the house during evening holding bird cage *Focus on N's face*. Opens bird cage and let's bird fly free. *Follow Jay as she flies off* *slow focus back to N's face*

N: I remembered something profound my father told me that day. He said,

N2: Sometimes you have to let someone go before you can truly appreciate the moments you shared together. And if that someone truly belongs with you, she'll find her way back.  Jay was never ours to tame, but she knows she has a home here and if she ever comes back, we'll take her back.

N: But she never did.

S: *Transition from Young N to Old N starring in the sunlight. Change music to something more alarming, but sad.*

N: Years passed and I forgot that lesson.

S: Argument with girl.  *Take scenes from both sides. Hands flinging. Close up on both faces. Normal view as well*

N: Sometimes I didn't even want to remember it.

S: On the phone arguing. *cut scenes from both sides*

N: It got bad. Very bad. But I was too stubborn to think that the lesson from Jay would apply in this situation.

S: Argument again than girl slaps N. *Again take scenes from both sides. Close up to girl as she slaps N.*

N: It was so bad I needed that slap to wake me up. I realized the true meaning of my father's words, but it was too late.

S: Girl storms to car and drives away. Cut back to N looking helpless. *From N's back as she walks to the car and enters. Girl's face through the car window. Car as it moves away to reveal N left standing there. Fade back to N's face*

N: My father said that sometimes you have to let someone go before you can truly appreciate the moments you shared together. And if that someone truly belongs to you, she'll find her way back. 

S: *Focus on N's face and slowly darken like sunset.* 

N: And I held on to those words.

S: *from N's back so we can see the gate* as Girl walks backs in and gives N a hug. *fade to black*

N: And that was my lesson from Jay

Still You Forgive

Verse 1:

Another Sunday morning

The congregation's singing

My hands are raised to the sky

To praise the God on High

But with these same hands I raise

Do I worship with all my days

Or is this just for the weekends

I lift my empty...

Chorus:

How can I stand among the Chosen

And eat with the Redeemed

When the shame has overridden 

And the guild cannot be dimmed?

How can I walk among Your people

When my faith and work don't tally?

Oh, Lord, my life is but a ripple

Will You come and rescue me?

Will You come and rescue me?

Will You come and rescue me?

Verse 2:

You know my walk is broken

You know what I've forsaken

And though my knees break down before You

Why do I fail my follow through? 

Bridge:

Still You forgive

Still You forgive 

Still You forgive

And for You I will live

I am Glad to be Count Among the Blessed

I am glad to be count among the blessed

I rejoice to stand in His righteousness 

For God's love is so great

That He choose to clean my slate

I am glad to be count among the blessed

I am glad to be count among the saved

Made able because He rose from the grave

What great an act of love

That God would leave His throne from above

I am glad to be count among the saved

I am glad to be count among His sheep

To have my sins laid down at His feet

To be wholly set apart

To be changed completely from the heart

I am glad to be count among His sheep

What love is this?

This love of His

He gave His own, to buy my release

He gave His life

To end my strife

He saved my soul from sin's deadly knife

I am glad to be count among the called

I'll carry my yoke and not be appalled

Sand me I will go

Where You'll lead me, I will follow 

I am glad to be count among the called

More than a Legacy

A path has been set; a course set in motion,

A paving of the way into the vastness of the ocean

From one generation to the next; from man to son

The hammering of the stone as its flashes sung.

Next to a brother and a sister; next to the multitudes of humans

Between expectations and freedom; maturity and innocence,

A space of peace and rest – of sweet quietness

With the noises of the people before us – their whispers turn to shout

With the plea from those behind us – their lips move about

Each day is planted from the start; each day is set in stone

For time is no man’s friend, and waits for none alone.

How can we take our daily steps if not for those before?

For if they hadn’t did what they did, how could we endure

The sweat of the brows of history-men is buried in our soil

It is their sacrifice that saved us all from the death and toil

How can we choose to leave this land when we were indeed so blind?

How can we choose to walk away and leave those left behind?

Weren't we purposed for something more than rummaging what we see?

Weren't we meant for something great that will leave a legacy?

Heroes of the past have gone before us and the future lies ahead

Now we ask what we’ll leave behind when we are also dead

Can we say with heads held high that we have done all we could

Or hide in shame and guilt when all we did was stood.

Is there a point for finding treasure when life is wasted away?

Is there a point to mining gold when a child can’t see the light of day?

Is there a need for fancy toys and energy that we spend?

Is there a need to scorch the trees when it itself can’t defend?

We can’t turn back what’s done; time waits for not even one

But we can make a change and leave something to our sons

What is an inheritance of notes when there’s nothing left to buy?

What is an heirloom of stones when the people need to die?

The question remains of what we leave for those who come after

A happy home of joyous sounds with the air full of laughter

Or a future filled with nothing more than cloudy disaster.

What are we leaving to those behind, what will they open their eyes to see?

That what we left behind for them is much more than a legacy.

As the nation stands in shifting soil and the cries of change are heard
Are we answering the call to move our feet and face this coming flood?
Do we dare to stand our ground and stand with heads held high
Or do we waste the blood of the history-men and let their legacy die?

A call to vote is a call for the future, and it is here you must make your stand
Do we hide in our homes afraid of it or do we stand strong hand-in-hand
The past remains the past, let us now look on to our future
Let us choose and make our mark on who would lead the next chapter

Let not the fear of oppression and the likes bar you from your way
Let not the seed of empty promises lead your path away
Let not the people of power turn your mind with amazing delights
Let not the sounds of riots make you throw away your rights

What are we leaving to those behind, what will they open their eyes to see?

That what we left behind for them is much more than a legacy.

Originally published on 28th November 2012

Revised on 30th April 2013