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22:53hrs, on July 15, 2022

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1

Months have gone by

Already.

They grabbed my peace

By the neck beads

And hauled it

Scratching, jolting

To only God knows where.

But now it’s like my birthday.

Boy, little me!

2

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The days quickened into lazy weeks.

The weeks strengthened into youthful months.

And the months? They straightened up

Into 4 mature years with tightened fists.

Tightened around the now scrawny neck

Of my fast ageing peace.

But God Almighty

Called Joshua to turn July 15

Into December 14.

And now it’s like my birthday.

Boy, little me!

3

By the time my trouble

Matured and straightened up into adulthood

The Almighty,

Merciful, faithful,

Lifted His loving finger

Angered by the cruelty of my

Healthy and matured misfortune.

The Lord lifted Isaiah 49.

He picked verse 24

Stretched out all the way to verse 26.

God kept right on.

He was defending me against

The trouble I invited, no, invented

All by myself

But now it’s like my birthday.

Boy, little me!

4

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My whole being

Magnifies God,

The Holy One of Israel.

When He spotted Boy little me,

He saw an advert for Himself.

From now all generations

Will praise God for me.

They will choose God when troubles break into their lives.

And when they see bullets

From every glance, they will

Duck in the Almighty’s covering

So now it’s like my birthday.

Boy, little me!

5

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For God alone

Over-rights the consistent competence of computers

Into foolishness.

The Almighty chooses digital natives

Who reject Him and

Metamorphoses them a little less

Than digital migrants to prove

That He is God.

He can turn the top-dog’s best

Social media campaign

In the under-dog’s best interests.

God lifts His loved

Along with their doldrums.

He floods them with heaven’s light.

Ein Kolekeinu

I will lift my only pulsing heart

In His praise.

He is not finished with me

And so far too good.

I boost up my only pounding heart and make it

Verdant in His praise.

Boy, little me.

For in His care

My trouble died at a ripe old age of 48 months.

And now it’s like my birthday

Boy, little me.

6

He can feed the unfed,

Heal the unwell,

Father the unfathered,

And love the unmothered.

He guides the unfound,

Lifts the unsound,

Prizes the unworthy, and

Dusts off the unclean.

He’s my manufacturer.

He alone keeps the human

Industry working.

He is the Hirer

Who trains the willing jobless

Till they become masters.

He can turn the “dunce” into an

Industry giant.

Now it’s like my birthday.

Boy, little me!