The Dark Prince

Had you been crushed in your Father’s embrace and calmed with His kiss
Would you have remained a Dark Prince?
As a pearl cast into the dust of the earth you were discarded;
In coarse hands your smooth beauty lay bruised.
Given up to teachers of darkness
Your heart was blackened and your soul robbed of light.
Spurned by your father you walked into a stranger’s arms.
In perverse hands you laid your blessing;
To devilish design you dedicated your gift.
Flames of hell lit your princely face
As you strode wielding death and destruction.
Now your great fire is spent, your glory utterly disfigured.
You lie in the quiet of your agony, an outcome of a divine purpose.
For Heaven did speak and hell did reply.

-Samuel Godfrey George

I am The Voice

I have begun to knock on people’s doors.

And the question has been asked more than once.

“Who are you?”

"I am The Voice."

WHO IS THE VOICE?

Is he the self-made man that he once claimed to be? Or is he the work of hands far superior to his own?

Is his voice his own? Are his thoughts the product of his mind?

Is his mind as noble as his thoughts? Does his love come from his heart?

Or does Someone live within him? Is He the mind of his thoughts? Is He the heart of his love? Is He the breath of his voice?

This is the BELIEF of the man who calls himself The Voice: I saw Him as a blazing train of fire in a childhood dream, and I pledged my servitude to Him in a language that I did not know then, but learned to speak later. I did not even know who He was. Yet I must have known deep within that He is the Lord.

For years I walked in darkness, not knowing my Master. I served another who was opposed to Him. I betrayed my Lord, and lay in the arms of His sworn enemy. I savoured the bliss of Hell.

But the Lord will not be cheated of His bride. He came for me, yet did not seize me instantly. He laid a divine finger on me, and delivered a deadly blow to the evil within my soul. The demons that ruled me could never recover from this, and slowly and painfully they crumbled to defeat.

Now the Lord has me firmly in His grip. Even as hellfire rages just outside my courtyard, He whispers His hope into my ears, and strengthens my will to fight. The Devil is still around.

The Lord gave me my mission. It is not to fight the powers of darkness only for my own sake, but also for the sake of others. So He empowered my voice, filled it with His own breath, and set ablaze the message that His love commands me to deliver to a people indifferent to and distanced from their Lord.

So here I come to the one who is willing to accept my love and hear my voice. I am Samuel Godfrey George. I am The Voice.

The Reversal

I shall return to the one I spurned.
I shall cradle in my arms the one I would not touch before.
I shall wipe away his tears, and calm his fears.
I shall speak what he has longed to hear but never heard.
I shall heal his broken bones, and kiss the hurt away,
I shall touch his heart and enter its innermost chamber.
I shall claim him as mine, and he will be my son.
My former sons I will now turn away from; they have spurned my love.
The Lord of Irony has commanded this.
So I shall turn from white to black, from the saved to the lost,
For only the lost and the doomed are the most precious in His eyes.

The Pleasure of Pain

In what is said is that which is not said. Let him who can see see what cannot be plainly seen. Let him who has ears hear what is not audibly expressed.

Was a man ever beautiful? Was innocence ever present? Did the mind ever not scheme? Was the heart ever content? Was the soul ever at rest?

Is not the chief ingredient of life pain born of conflict, captivity and impermanence? Is there a moment in life totally devoid of pain? Is there a joy in life utterly removed from fear?

Can a man have wisdom and still be happy? Can a man know his Creator and still hold on to the created? Can the momentary joy transcend the lingering pain?

The joys of life are temporary; the pain of life is permanent. Temporary joy is not really joyful; permanent pain is not really painful. What cannot continue to give you joy cannot be joyful. Still what continues to give you pain need not always be painful. The purpose of pain is not to agonise but to point to the real joy, which can be felt dimly in this life, and truly experienced in another.

What troubles my sweet prince? What mars his beautiful smile? Has he tasted pain and not discovered its sweetness? Has he felt the agony and not experienced its pleasure?

Can I hold my son and not let him go? Can my arms shield him from the joy of life and the beauty of pain? Can I love my son without letting out a flood of tears?

-Samuel Godfrey George

My Son And I

My son, my precious one, you are my greatest gift,
Every blessing pales in comparison with you.
Every morning I wake up in the hope
Of seeing your beautiful face,
Every time I see you I feel how blessed I am to have you.
What a special moment it is when our eyes meet,
What a privilege it is to sit next to you,
And what a blessing it is when we talk,
Just you and me, my son and I.

How my heart aches when you do not think of me,
I feel anger, terrible anger,
When you deny me due respect,
Or when you do not seem to care about me.
But you are a child, a very young child
Who cannot understand the depth of my feelings.
Yet when I tell you about my pain,
I can see your eyes moisten,
I can see that you feel my hurt,
When you speak to me, I can hear your voice tremble,
And when you apologise, a flood within my heart longs to break out.
It is then I long to hold you, for an eternal moment,
And say, “My son, my son, my precious beautiful son,
I’d lose everything in life to have you.”

-Samuel Godfrey George

The Wayward Son

You were born among us,
You were raised to be like us,
Why do you not walk with us?
Why do you resist our way?
Are you not what you essentially are?
Are you not your father's son?
Will you not be defined by your mother's beliefs?
Your speech is strange,
Your language is not your own.
You wish to live a life that we cannot imagine.
You speak of a day that may never come.
Out of love we discourage you,
And insist that you do what is acceptable to us.
Will you listen to us?
Will you give us hope or fill us with despair?

-Samuel Godfrey George

Lord, We Wait

Where are you my Son?
I have been looking for you.
Have you been looking for me?
I look around for you,
But I cannot find you.
Where are you my Son?
My precious one, where are you?

You are a child without a father,
And I am a father without a child.
Are we destined to meet?
Will I ever see your face?
Will I ever speak to you?
Will I ever hear your lips utter the truth
That I long to hear?

Lord, we wait.
A Father waits for his Son;
A Son waits for his Father.
Lord, we wait.

-Samuel Godfrey George