1 Corinthians 2:9-10 

9 But as it is written: “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”

10 But God has revealed them to us through His Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God.

 

Who is Cinderella in a world without dreams?

Who is your future when all hope is gone?

Who is waiting at the end when you can’t see 1st base?

Who is counting frustration when the day comes to an end?

 

Where is the place in memory where happiness can be found?

Where is the door and key to optimism’s realm?

Where is the Balm of Gilead when wounded in the field?

Where is the boat headed when I am at the helm?

 

Where is the storm residing when everything is calm?

Where is trouble smiling laying a trap for me?

Where is procrastination hanging from the ceiling?

Where is my double hiding pretending to be free?

 

Why are clouds moving below a cloudless sky?

Why is true reality seldom to be seen?

Why is life a form of death and so an open window?

Why is a life not possible unless death is clearly seen?

 

Why do deeper thoughts show the shallowness of our being?

Why is going backward a form of getting ahead?

Why are great riches hidden in levels of poverty?

Why is playing God for us a hungering serious fad?

 

What is the end of a day in the early morning?

What is night really but hidden from the sun?

What is grief indeed but a form of selfishness?

What is a great loss if we never really owned?

 

What is degradation but a form of elevation?

What is an empty cup if it is filled with air?

What is a book indeed if it is never opened?

What is a pen in hand but a form of despair?

 

When is life understood ... when death stands at the door?

When is a week accepted as a day seems not worth the living?

When is reality swallowed in one’s own imagination?

When has a dream come true in the purpose of just giving?

 

When is truth perceived in mind’s interaction?

When does the day start at the moment I wake up?

When does tranquility leave when suddenly interrupted?

When does life start ... is it when I give up?

 

Is honesty possible when born to be a thief?

Is integrity reasonable when slyness is the base?

Is emptiness squeezable without a case of diarrhea?

Is truth recognizable when you understand your face?

 

Is it really a waste to spend the day a dreaming?

Is it unacceptable to cry without a reason?

Is it not feasible to trace your destination?

Is it not misunderstanding that recognizes seasons?

 

Jan Wienen