Seconds per lightning strike

This bucket
Is the most orange I have had in months
Four hugs, and more handshakes than most
Nin-nin when I trek o’er the moat
My Crocs are decorative of toes,
Five prayers? Adding more is a must

Adding more is a must
Once done, more than twice is enough
Big scrolls getting filled in a rush
Times tough? Only toughens the Love

Only knots our net
And our love kicks it but that it is never a bucket
Bibles are sockets and so are some men
My God is the only rocket through the firmament
And He suits me with a gem as a pocket square
Not a single strand escapes His stare

Escape him where?
Even if you kicked a bucket here
Every plain is plain before His stare
Mountains strip their secrets in a glare
All the while we inhale from His care
40 million heart beats a year
Enough energy to grow a pair

And more…

Adding more is a must
A lifetime of forgiveness and hunt
Big scrolls getting soaked in the blood
Times up? Not if I have a Word

Godzniel
©2026

TALE OF THE HEAVENS

Far away
Away as the waters that once finds its dwelling at shore

How far is far
Are you talking about endless oceans or a stary sky?

I have lost my rhythm at the sound of the endless ocean
Scared to trace the pathway
Which I once trusted as the Broadway

The way to the Broadway can be deceptive
But we are receptive to the leading of the rhythm within
The one that leads to the path of life

The path of life
The crown of eternity
Grizzled with Gold and emerald
Joining the Herald
The cherubs and seraphs in the song of redemption

The very redemption that liberates
The one that exposes me to my strengths
The joy is unending
This song ushers me to rivers of living water

Most times I hear more about angels singing
But poetry is hardly talked about
Does the angel write?
Is poetry their kind?

If they ever wrote I wonder what colour the words displayed
But I think to myself, if Christ is a poet then maybe their is a trace that leaves clues

Maybe they write in blue
Or green, or pink,
No, I think golden, because of the golden scroll
Maybe not
Maybe black or brown or no color
Maybe their ways is a mystery to unravel

I think a greater mystery to unravel is the way they study their master through us, the chosen once, the once who have given themselves to the Word

It teaches me the true way of a living master
That conquered me in my rebellion
Adonai
That divided the river Nile

The Niles hear and see
They are receptive to the masters voice
Same way they can be with ours
Cause the signet has been placed on us

Imani Dokubo
The Alchemist
© 2019