TYPEWRITER

It’s been quite a while…Glad to be back! [Special thanks to C.Ej. for the constant reminders on what I needed to do here. Anajijua 😉 ]

It’s Revival Week at my church,Parklands Baptist, and we are going to Bethel! {Refer to Genesis 35:1-5}. Anyone who needs the sermon notes or summary, I’m a text/call/whatever way you’d like..away! Better still, you could join us at the services this week {ending 9th August 2015}…both physically or by live stream 🙂

So all this talk of Bethel reminded me of an album that’s all the rage in Rachel Ngonyoku’s world right now. 😀 Being her ‘we-share-the-same-taste-in-music’ kind of friend, plus I was super charged after today’s service, I said “leo lazima niisikilize!” Armed with earphones and youtube, I waged war on Bethel Music’s “Synesthesia-Without words”.

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A huge fan of instrumentals I indeed am, hence it broke me. Spoke to my very being. Invigorating! I started writing and here I am now. Not really sure of why I wrote this nor what aspect of my life inspired it, but one thing I’m sure of: God is writing all of our stories. Considering He is the author of His all-time bestseller “The World”, we are in great hands! 🙂

*Cc Sunday School Song: He’s got the whole world in His hands 😀 *

Barikiweni!


TYPEWRITER

Clickity clock…

the sound of the machine,

its rhythm so definite.

Clickity clock…

push back to the beginning.

Clickity clock…

the beginning.

Character after character.

Each comes in at their own pace.

Each one with their own ink stain.

But each season must end and come back to,

the beginning.

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The ink lands on paper,

the impression on paper.

Tiny dots form a letter.

Letters form a word.

Words form a sentence.

Back to the beginning.

Each one makes their impression.

Some, a drop in the ocean.

Another, footprints in the sand.

Others, a speck of dust on a table.

But still an impression,

since the beginning.

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Then came in the different machines.

Noiseless ones; ‘Silent’ they called them.

Then those electric ones.

Phew! That mechanical work was tiresome, having to keep pushing it

back to the beginning.

They were different.

Tall, lean, dark, short.

Each with their own story,

from their very beginning.

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The journey of knowing each was beautiful. All had their own story.

Enter.

What was the reason behind me meeting them? Maybe there was something I needed to learn.

Copy and Paste.

Or one whose past I could help mentally rub off?

Backspace.

One who doesn’t see trouble coming but I’d help foresee and write wrong right.

Delete.

Those whom I held so dear.

Caps lock.

Or the meticulous like me who believe God is in the detail?

Tab.

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But there were those characters I overlooked,

though imagine a world without them.

Foolstop

.

Those that made me stop and introspect.

Comma

,


Hence,

each key is important;

key in life.

As paper flows, one after the next.

One factor constant,

the typewriter.

As ages pass, seasons change,

He still remains.

The Typewriter.


brene-story

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