“I’LL PUT MY HANDS IN YOUR ARM”



The sun was like a huge bloody mass

Sinking into the far western horizon

Blending with its shadow cast upon the water’s mass

Ripples of tiny waves rippling across the shadows

So I watch another mysterious act of nature

Accomplishing nature’s assignment of another day



It was the evening rush hour in the camp

The fishermen pushed out into the vast sea

Little wooden boats bubbling on the waves

Being carried away into the vast open sea

And so the water on the ebbing tide

Accomplished another routine assignment of nature



Where does the water go on its swift rush?

Only to get exhausted and fagged out into a crawl

Returning from wherever with another swift rush

So the cycle continues into a never ending routine

Is there a purpose; is there a reason for nature’s acts

And so I lost into the mystery of another act of nature



While searching for answers to these questions,

The thoughts and questions of other searchers assailed

My reasoning, that we cannot nature’s act question.

“Many things about tomorrow I don’t seem to understand.

But I know who holds tomorrow,

And I know who holds my hand,”

So says a song writer, Ina Forest stanphil



So the huge body of waters of the sea

At the estuary of the ocean empties into the ocean

In the ebbing tide in the mornings and evenings

Only to retrieve all its contents to fill the rivers

In the flowing tide at noon and at nights

While the fishermen routinely fitted into nature plan



There is a purpose for every act of nature

I only questioned when I search not the mystery

But as I look also into the sky, I was appalled

Of yet another mysterious act of nature

Clouds of every shape and colour sailing

Across the sky in an incendiary of colour display



Need I question the purpose and reason of all these?

The answer came over in a wise man saying

Many centuries ago; a King once wrote

“There is a season for everything, and a time for

Every purpose under Heaven.” So night comes

And followed on its heel by day: a continuous routine.



Need I to ask the myriads of questions buffeting me?

Why does it rain to cause devastation here:

While wild fire is ravaging other lands for want of rainfall?

Can man fathom the extent and wisdom of God doing that?

Just as we laugh and weep in joy and sorrow,

So, does God, He adjusts the routine nature of His works.



I raised my eyes into the heaven with reverence

To Him who knows it all; whom another song writer,

Once said, “I put my hands in your arm, Oh Lord…”

That is what I will do: I will put my hand in His arm

As like in 'lovers’ nest, looking unto Him in humble

Submission, so He will bear me through life’s voyage.