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Hello, I’m Veronica

The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.

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Hymn & Poetry

PILGRIMAGE
Sing over my heart,

Oh, messengers of the presence

That I do not sing the songs of the dead and

stagger into oblivion

He will judge me with His strength

The Lord God will keep the pilgrims hopes alive

Till i reach home;

Where a million kisses awaits

My burdened soul
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SEASON OF BECOMING | 2022 
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Hymn & Poetry

COMATOSE
I.

Comatose civilization; tamed desires of heaven; sleeping watchmen everywhere. Fields of tares under pleasant beds; our teeth sets on edge. The fence of once formidable family, weakened by the night stalker, when men slept; COMATOSED

II.

If you meet her soul at the market square, the old lover, don’t judge her lonely feet. Sing her a new song, to remind her that, seasons may change but tomorrow will come

III.

Comrades at heart, never ends at the dawn of darkness and death. At birth, i became a companion to the faces of people i encountered and those i will never meet.

IV.

Brothers and sisters: we are gifts that descended from the womb of God, born not of the flesh, invisibly connected, but worlds apart

V.

Hey, divider of cities and nations. Wake up from your sleep. You’ve been fighting against yourself, your brothers and sisters. When I sing my song to the world, those who dance to my poetry lines are not an audience, they are soul connectors; brothers and sisters

VI.

Soul connectors are the enliven ones. They never sleep the sleep of common men [that divides] because their eyes are gatekeepers of the brotherhood of God. Those who never lamented because the fire was not at their doorsteps has died the death of self poverty; obsession and apathy
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Season Of Becoming | 2022
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Hymn & Poetry

REED

I.

My thoughts were gold goblet with sweet wine, yesterday, today i am a dry reed: Such wrestling in my flower gardens makes the fences panic.

II.

O, gardener protector, my heart aches for yesterday, to transport sweet wine to the souls appetite. I want to conquer today. I want to stand tall today but my feet has become a dry reed, and the winds are unfair to my reins

III.

Come, publish the tales of heaven within my joints, and I’ll dance again, by the strengthening of the law of your strength

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Hymn & Poetry

TEAR DROPS
Oft times life is cruel and ruthless

Well calculated decisions collapses before your eyes —

Tear drops drag all your hopes

Into distant oceans;

Leaving you red soul distraught.

I met myself this morning,

standing under a cold bridge in the city;

Tears in my eyes, a faded flower

in my hands

Oh, woman, my soul, dream brighter again

Oh, mystery child,

don’t let the flame in you die. We

gonna be alright. Things fall apart, things grow again

Things fall apart, things grow again, things grow again
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Season Of Becoming | 2022 
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Hymn & Poetry

REMNANT
True amazing things happens from unusual places, so often than we can ever imagined. Flowers grow at the base of oceans, angels sings to an audience of mere men, at the backdrop of obscurity and denial

Light shines from within the valleys, the world comes to our wealth, from the apex of her riches and pomp, drinking from the cup in the hands of the custodians of light, in surrender

True amazing things will happen again, even as the world loses its appetite for truth, Because a remnant is unleashed into the streets; such men who have never bowed to the Baal of our day

Oh, how beautiful are the feet of them who did not sold their soul to mammon appeals, but preserved their substance in the furnace of purity. True amazing things are happening here, today:
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“Just as Isaiah saw it coming and prophesied: If the Lord God had not left us a remnant, we would have been destroyed like Sodom and left desolate like Gomorrah!”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭9:29‬ ‭TPT‬‬
 
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The world has found a brand new home, a desire and appetite for His bread again, for truth again.

Truth is sold freely, everywhere, by this irresistible remnants; a company of His love, scattered in terrains that was thought to be unplowed and deserted

True amazing things are us, sold to the idea of hope and possibilities, in the midst of their blues; the worlds uproar
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Into A Season Of Becoming | 2022   
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