December’s song.

Don’t worry my dear one your losses are lessons learnt.

Every burn a scar to grace,
Consider them;
Every tear that detoxed.
Meditate on how far you have come,
Bend a knee to give thanks for the
Evergreen season that is come, and
Remember you’re not alone.

God authors your story! Stick with him, Go to him, He is God Most High full of glory!👥

The Refiner

Burn me beautiful,

Burn me lovely,

Burn me righteous,

Burn me holy.

Brand me with your name and I’ll be marked forever.

Let there be light

By Chandler Moore and Steffany Gretzinger

The Boy and The Ocean

One day a little boy built a glass house floating in the sea, with a ladder and without a lid; The ladder for when he needs water and and the lack of a lid for the sea breeze to keep him warm in summer.

He lives in wonder of the house he’s built and buries his head in glass house mantainace books, he has it perfected; His house will be carried by the ease of the ocean, and will keep the lid open for the sea air as he needs to live.

The very ocean has wonders but that’s a ‘lie’ he doesn’t buy;

“Oh its full of sharks! It’s not even blue! Its safety is an illusion the ocean will drown you”! He cries “Every one needs a glass house, we aren’t made to be sea animals, we need the ocean only in part and she knows that, don’t trouble your mind.” But I don’t comprehend him he lives in a glass house floating in an ocean I’ve become.


I see roots of evergreen cypress trees floating within the clouds, as ocean waves break into floods. The floods find rest where i lay compressing my head into an array of darkness, while the cypress floats above it all like an evergreen water body graceful in its launch,

I consider the floods to the death;

A tragedy.


I pray your thoughts find peace in a place of sense,

And the strokes of your pen like magic dance with grace,

A poem for each thought,

A story per season,

A dance for no reason,

And a song for a lover who wouldn’t listen,

May your song be guidance to him, singing ‘Grace! Grace! Peace be to him’.


As he speaks, his lips part slightly as though they were hiding his words from me,

His words reach me, but barely, although gently,

Like the wind, they brush through my ears, swiftly but calmly,

He’s whispering.

I stare in anticipation of his next words, i stare to grab the knowledge i couldn’t get before,

His lips part again, about to speak, but this time I’m tracing the letters in the air, as though i could see the vibrations that birthed them,


“Moyo, stop looking at them, you will see me,

Stop listening to the wind, you can hear me.”

Good morning child.

Just smile and hold God’s hand,

Don’t lose hope this morning,
Take his hand, keep his words to heart.

He is the sun you need, in you there’s a living spring
You’re God’s child so drink.

Do not be discouraged by your lukewarmness,
Why do you think he has baptised you with His spirit and fire!

In you a hunger dwells, cry out! cry now! Ask for help,
Be loud and clear God is always here.