A life we hold inside of us can often become a haunt in our present, and this is the only cause that we are unable to process the present and the beautiful blessings we hold inside of us. I love what King Solomon says in the book of Ecclesiastes Ch-3
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
These words every time I read them remind me of the time I was back in Thailand, and even now I remind myself with these words and even then when I look around of myself I see what is happening shouldn’t be happening, people go through a lot in their lives and so did I, not denying what is happening and what is about to happen.
This love now I live is so vivid and so different on so many different levels, that I can’t deny of the words and confesses I made, all those crazy things I did I am not giving up on them.
Somehow this temple we built its traces seem to blur as its out of focus, as the past is now becoming a haunt for my lovers heart as if it is a repetition of what has happened in the past.
how to make her realize it is a beautiful present a proclamation of the future full of love and full of hope as it is not just U or me or her it is Us now, it is the time when we will fly to a place where no one knows us know one recognizes us, where it’s just Us, we are knows not by me or you but by Us,
This past is why so intense why the traces of it are making me feel like I am just of no help and my anger just rages me to do more worse to this heart of hers where I started painting with love and with all that I can be, But still something is missing, I am no God or no saint just a man with my faults in my stars but still wanting the best you can desire to be.
Stones are striking are my head, I ask them why are you hitting me as I am your enemy who breaks you and bake and turns into a temple for others to praise the art of my hands, as it is nothing like that as once I made you my God, as I used you to engrave my lovers name, how come then I be of any hurt to the stones that were once the plate of my lovers letters.
The past is such a haunt as I am of no cause of relief but only of pain to my lover’s heart.
Her name is peace; her eyes are the temple of light to rest her heart is like the canvas for the master painter to paint the finest of his works.
I have seen my lover face to face, some days hidden in dark some days sparkling in the brightest of days, as this is not you nor me it US.. Why so then I can’t cause the past not to be a haunt in this present she claims the best thing ever happened in her life.
Whatever is has already been,
and what will be has been before;
and God will call the past to account.[b]
And I saw something else under the sun:
In the place of judgment—wickedness was there,
in the place of justice—wickedness was there.
I said to myself,
“God will bring into judgment
both the righteous and the wicked,
for there will be a time for every activity,
a time to judge every deed.”