FRIENDSHIP WITH GOD

A friend can be defined as that person whom you like and choose to spend time with.

Only in two biblical instances did Divinity refer to humanity specifically as 'Friends'. In other instances, we had to infer as words which could be interpreted as that were used. A cursory glance shows nothing similar between the two groups thus honoured. One is in the Old Testament, the other in the New. God the Father took the lead, God the Son followed suit; both pronouncements were of course made under the leadership and inspiration of The Holy Spirit.

According to the Scriptures, Abraham was the first human ever to attain this lofty position. Before him, notable righteous men lived. "...and God had respect for Abel and his offering..."(Gen 4:4); "Enoch walked with God..." (Gen 5:24); "...Noah found favour in the eyes of the Lord...a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked with God" (Gen 6:8-9).

However, when it got to Abraham, none of the other words could describe the beauty of what God and Abraham shared. Heaven just had to come up with a new word. Their relationship had a new dimension and as such, required a fresh definition.

"Friendship" became the operative word. Note that this was after Abraham had spent 24 whole years walking with God. 24 years of being the hottest news item and cover story of every gossip columnist and hard-up tabloid (his story would sell the paper) as the rich old fool who must have lost his marbles. If not, how does one explain a 75-year-old man waking up one morning, leaving all he had and embarking on a journey to an unknown and undefined destination, all on the command of a God no one had ever heard about nor seen. That sure was the height of absurdity. Twenty-four whole years of being the laughing stock of neighbours, friends and enemies- imagine taking out a classified ad for change of name, not just for himself from "assumed father" to "father of many" (at least he already had Ishmael as a consolation), but also for his wife who had never had the privilege of even a miscarriage as "Mother of nations". The entire process of circumcision is a story for another day.

One would have thought that all these acts of dogged devotion to God regardless of what men thought (if that is not enemity with the world- which equals friendship with God James 4:5- I don't know what is) should have qualified Abraham for  friendship. But it was not so. Good as they were, much as God noticed and recognised and even applauded them, there was still a critical factor He needed to see before pronuncing Abraham "friend".

While you ponder and wonder, fast forward to the New Testament. On your way, take a glance at Joseph, Moses, Aaron, Joshua and Caleb. Deborah, Esther and Hannah. Remember to look over the lives of Samuel, David, Elijah, Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Do not forget to recall Isaiah, Jeremiah, Joel and Hosea. The list is inexhaustive. Valiant men and virtuous women. In there is "the meekest man that ever lived" and "the man after God's own heart". These men not only called down fire, they entered the fiery furnace in the name of God. Prophets who heard God with their physical ears. Men who stood firm in faithfulness despite all odds. They all had impressive resumes. Yet, none was qualified enough for God to call them "Friend".

The New Testament beckons.

In the book of John 15:15-16, Christ, like the true Son of His Father, took three and a half years of leading, living with and teaching men older than him (in the flesh) before He could consider and call them "friends". The years could seem nothing compared to Abraham's, but then, life expectancy had depreciated appreciably between Abraham's time and the time of Christ. Remember also that these were men with families and occupations (some very lucrative, think of a medical practice, working with the FIRS), and numerous responsibilities who had abandoned all for three years running just to follow a King whose only throne was probably whatever he could craft out in his father's workshop, in a stereotypically unproductive and unknown village called Nazareth. Nonetheless, Christ was just following the standards of God that cannot be broken.

Abraham and the disciples, aside from their resilient resolutions to disregard ridicule were about as similar as chalk and cheese. What then prompted Divinity to call them "Friends"?

In Genesis 18:17-19 God said "...shall I hide from Abraham (MY FRIEND) what I'm about to do... For I know Him, that he will surely command his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord... SO THAT THE LORD WILL BRING ABOUT FOR ABRAHAM WHAT HE HAS PROMISED HIM".

Jesus on His own part in John 15:15-16 says "I no longer call you servants... Instead, I call you FRIENDS, for everything that I learned from my Father, I have made known to you... I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit- fruit that will last. THEN, THE FATHER WILL GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU ASK IN MY NAME". (emphasis, mine).

The determining factor, the meeting point, the standard of qualification, the prerequisite criterion, the basis of consideration as it were is simple- FATHERHOOD.

God testified, about nine months before the birth of Isaac, that Abraham would not just suggest to him, but COMMAND him, alongside every other person in his household to keep the way of the Lord, to do what is right and just.

Christ testified about His disciples, before the first soul was ever preached to in the new covenant of His death and resurrection, 'I know you would bear fruit' (that is a given), 'and that you would "Father" them to remain'.

Having children is actually not the issue, that is a foregone conclusion in the sight of God. Any pubescient young man can impregnate a female, and have a child. Any true christian can preach the Word and the Holy Spirit would convict and bring souls into the Kingdom.

The issue is in fatherhood.

God places premium value on not just good enough, but excellent fatherhood. Beautifully enough, He recognises the challenges of fatherhood. He identifies with the pains of a wayward son and the joys of having children right on track. He fully understands the sacrifice and torn emotions. He fathers the most jumbled and unruly and stubborn and deviant and depraved set of children. Yet He does it all excellently.

He shows us the perfect example in our relationship with Him. Check out His names, especially in the New Covenant. Heavenly Father, Abba Father, Father of all Grace, Father of Light, Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ. He can't be anything but Father. He parents us spiritually, physically, mentally, financially (He teacheth us to profit) and in all areas of life.

To win God's friendship, all we need be is be fathers. We ought to be fathers. One might ask, but I'm not yet married. Or, I don't have kids of my own, yet. Here, mentorship, follow-up or whatever name you choose comes in. There are a lot of people out there, young and not so young, all yearning for a father's love, the kind of approval only a dad can give, the corrections and counsel that characterize the interest of a father in his offspring. This is not just in the physical aspect, it applies also in the spiritual.

With our words and actions, precepts and concepts, principles and practise, we ought to be fathers.

Just like any other meaningful endeavour, excellent fatherhood demands copious amounts of our resources- time, energy, money, emotions and courage. Disappointments are sure. It is a challenging task. It requires sacrifice.

Ironically, it is also the second most thankless job in history (yeah, I think it comes right after motherhood. My personal opinion, anyway). You know, no one really notices when you are a good father, but as soon as you miss a step, the jury would be out. I've heard criticisms against David because of Amnon, Tamar, Absalom, and Adonijah. I've even heard Father Abraham under fire because of Ishmael. But I've never heard any one give any of them kudos for the wonderful way Solomon and Isaac turned out respectively.

The camp could be divided on David's fatherhood abilities. Perhaps, he was too busy dodging Saul and fighting wars to give it his all. Despite his conquests and antecedents, the result of what could have been bad fatherhood choices almost marred his reign, but for God's intervention.

Nevertheless, God is not like man. He fully understands what fatherhood entails. So, whenever He sees excellent fatherhood, He doesn't stop at saying "thanks", He rewards. There is a bonus for fatherhood, I mean minus Divine friendship. The tail part of Gen 18:19 and John 15:16 adds the icing to the cake. Both record blessings and privileges that would accrue to true fathers. In fatherhood is the assurance that ALL His promises to us would be fulfilled. In fatherhood is the Word that WHATEVER we ask The Father will be done.

I'm female, but I just signed up for Divine Friendship through Fatherhood. What about you? Wouldn't you rather be God's friend?



November 19

Dear November 19,

How do you do?

I have tried to forget you since March 8, when we celebrated the womenfolk. But somehow, you have stubbornly stuck in my subconscious.

I am a little bit double minded about how to approach you. Should I be formal? Or should I make myself familiar? Especially, since this peice is not just about you. It is also about those men who grace the world. 

Males who continously stand for truth, justice and love.

Males who are courageous enough to uphold their beliefs even when the

rest of the world seem to be going crazy.

My utmost respect goes to my biological father. Who I also have the rare privilege of having as my first spiritual father- Rev. Christopher O. Anoke. The husband of one wife, a believer in the One true living God. A shepherd indeed, a father to many.

Humble and caring, with a huge sense of humor. "I love you, Daddy".

Men of God, shaping lives and moulding destinies. Many I have met physically, many more, I haven't. However, their voices have helped direct my choices. Bishops T. D. Jakes, Paul Nwachukwu, Papa David Oyedepo, Big Daddy Mike Okonkwo, Pa Adeboye, Pst. Chris. Oyakhilohme, Bill Hybels, Myles Munroe (R.I.P., Sir), Pst. Sam Adeyemi, Pst. Paul Adefarasin, Fela Durotoye, Pst. Femi Adejumo, PK, Pst. Kunle Soriyan- "thank you", for helping me and leading me on the path to unravel the mysteries in God's word. Thank you for making me realise the bliss in Christianity. Thank you for explaining the place of purpose and the purpose of each place as I journey through life.

My pastor, Rev Ayodeji Kolade Cole, of blessed memory. Though you are gone, I know you are looking down from that higher realm. I promise to make you proud. Always.

Pastor Chris E. Ebadan- my daddy's name sake- you are an inspiration.

Rev. Ejike Monwuba- my father's son who is also my father thus making my father to also be my grandfather. Don't worry, I can't figure it out either.

Max Lucado, as far as I am concerned, you are in a distinct class of your own. May God continually smile on you.

To the two Franklins in my life (at least from a distance *winks*) Kirk and Edwards. I sincerely celebrate the grace of God upon your lives. Sonnie Badu and Nathaniel Bassey, I should also be allowed to say "I love you". (Smiles)

My brothers, Mike and Agoziem, one-of-a-kind intelligent gentlemen. You guys are wonderful. My brother from another mother- Billy JC. Double Twale for you Bro, your swagg's tight and you are truly the best. My brother-in-law, "Uncle" Sam. I respect you, Sir.

All the men in Glory homecell of TREM Vision House, Abuja, especially Stanley N, Weje.

To all those males who have been my friends, especially- Baba Ameco (for challenging my mind); Manuel (no regrets knowing You); Belema (we had our issues, but I'm sure we both came out better. Thanks for expanding my world); Dickson- my only POP *winks*. Nyero, a special friend indeed. 

Alex "TyvFunny", Chibuikem, Olusola, Kehinde "K'Bams", Martial, Azubuike "Zuby", my favourite celebs, Ayobami and Henry, "manager" VOK, Dimeji "Pilot1", words fail me. From the bottom of my heart, I appreciate you guys.

All my male neighbours, classmates, course mates and colleagues through the years, my current boss, Mr Bolaji  and the "Team Leadership of life" Mr Awosika, "ese gaaan" for making 'Success' a better female.

Gentlemen of Team Kaizen. A million thanks to all of you for the beauty of the past two years and for the continued partnership of the countless years ahead.

My Dear Special One, it is a joy knowing we would be a team. A present day two-third of that three-cord-rope that can never be broken.

Thank you:

For being the perfect gentleman. 

For respecting my body and recognising my intellect.

For guarding my trust and honouring my pride.

For building me spiritually and for praying for me.

For helping us find a middle ground even when I respond with 'emotional Greek' to your rational English.

For being not just a friend but also a priest.

For not being too manly to cry, sharing my tears on gloomy days and making me see the brighter side.

For halving my pains and doubling my joys.

To boys, teens and men, the world over, being sons, grandsons, nephews, fiancés, husbands, fathers, grandfathers, fathers-in-law and friends. I greet you all this special day. I pray for you too. That you will have

the courage to be real men. 

Men who will command respect just by being, and not having to demand it by bullying. 

Men who will protect their partners (in heart and pocket matters) and place a premium on trust.

Men who would take decisions from above and not from below.

Men whose words would be as good as the husky baritone in which they are uttered and worth more than any papers they may be written on.

Men of wisdom, men of insight.

Men who would not hesistate to say the truth at all seasons.

Men who would not sell their birthrights for a mess of pottage.

Men who would be willing to rise from the ashes of whatever mistakes may have burnt up their pasts and fan with amend the embers of cold passion into a blazing light of purpose.

Men who would face their demons squarely and by so doing give their children hope for a brighter future.

Men who are optimistic enough to look into tomorrow, yet are realistic enough to learn from yesterday.

Men who belive in God.

Men who believe in themselves.

Men who believe in life.

Men who are men indeed.

PS: This was originally written on 19-11-2012 and was published as a note on facebook. However, this version has been edited.

You may also wish to visit https://m.facebook.com/notes/success-anoke/november-19/4567629042112/?refid=21 for the original article.
Thank you.

Crowns and Sacrifices and Fruits

As the voices ascended in united singing during the worship service last Sunday evening somewhere in Surulere, Lagos, a new sky of understanding opened up to me on this hymn-"Crown Him". 

While we did the first stanza, my mind jumped to the second (though it never got sung in the long run). This stanza starts with the line "Let every kindred, every tribe on this terrestrial ball..." and ends with "...And crown Him Lord of lords".

God made me see the rare privilege I, and indeed every other true worshipper have been accorded.

We are actually to be the coronating officers to The King of kings. You and I, mere mortals that we are, have been graciously elevated to the position of King-makers to Divinity. 

This is a calling so high it is humbling in it's grandeur. And that with not a trace of politicking nor lobbying on our part. If that isn't awesome, I don't know what is.

This privilege interpretes that there is a spot on Christ's head at every point in time awaiting a coronation from no one else but you and I, as individuals.

It was so startling a revelation I'd to pause to let it sink in before I could rejoin the singing congregation, on an entirely different song, of course with a better understanding of the act of worship.

All through the week I went about with a fresh consciousness.

I ought to maximise the privilege. I must exhaust all the crowns I've got at my disposal. Coronation is serious business. I need to give it all the attention it requires. I have to do it in all ways possible- singing, dancing, giving, preaching, listening, caring, sharing, every single, simple and mundane activity of every day living, in fact, just being should be an act of worship. I should do it according to the specifications- in Spirit & in Truth (John 4:24).

Thinking about it all this evening, as I mentally prepared for service, I got another insight from Hebrews 13:15. "...sacrifices of praise" and "...fruit of our lips".

Tomorrow is another Sunday. Let praises ring true. Let your songs resound sincere. Not just the movement of lips, not just the utterance of words prearranged in harmonious rhythms.

Tomorrow is another Sunday. Another opportunity to kick-start a flagging attitude of gratitude  Make it a Sunday unusual. Let the King receive a crown. Let Heaven hear a different melody.

Let it indeed be a sacrifice. The fruit of your lips. 

You know, fruits don't just appear. Lands are prepared. Seeds are carefully chosen and planted and cultivated and watered and nurtured. Weeds are taken off. Care is taken such that nothing chokes the plant nor hinders its growth. It takes hope and faith and a great deal of patience.

Lands of salvation, seeds of God's faithfulness, accepted in humility, watered with joy and gladness.

Note this, weeds must come up. Tiny shoots of thoughts of what should have been. Sprouting pre-occupations with unanswered prayers, and desires not yet met. Weeds of comparisons with folks we started with who have left us in the dust long ago. I mean it's the 11th month already, the tunnel seems to be getting darker and the nights longer. Where in heaven's name is the light? Where are the miracles? The promises that ushered in our 2014?

Tares sown by the enemy. They could morph into a mass of murmurs, climbing vines of complaints, binding ropes of bitterness.

We owe ourselves to identify and ruthlessly uproot these weeds. We owe ourselves to constantly water the seeds of His faithfulness else they would never bear fruits of gratefulness. We owe ourselves to remember that it is a sacrifice. A sacrifice of the natural human logic that says "see before you praise" to take on the supernatural and beyond-human method of praising through the pain, praising despite the struggles, smiling at heaven through the tears,  praising in advance.

Else, we might only fill up the pews and make up the attendance. And then, though we dance off our soles and clap down the roof, sing along with the choir and scream out our lungs, heaven would not take note. Because no crowns were brought. No sacrifices were offered. No fruits were borne.

If I default, if you default, if we default, this King is as desirous of excellence as He is humble. He'll let stones do the honours. And you bet they'll deliver, just the way He wants it.

May no stones take your place. May no stones take my place. Not in time. And not in eternity in Jesus' name, Amen.

Stay Favoured.

You are the man

Second Samuel 12:1-13 tells a story that should make any weep at man's injustice to fellow man and cause even Hollywood script writers to question the suspense factor in their detective stories.

A typical "big man" who had lots of stuff at his beck and call forcefully snatches the only source of livelihood left for a poor man and his family.

This is of course just a parable of the real event recorded a chapter earlier.

Trust King David (giant-slayer extraordinaire, teen champion, who successfully played 'bull-fight' with both a lion and a bear, and lived to tell the story, musician par excellence, prolific writer, thrice anointed king, Spirit-filled warrior, the man after God's own heart) he bellowed in royal wrath and roared with righteous indignation- "WHODUNNIT!?!?!?".
He didnt stop there, he went ahead to mentally arrest, arraign, convict and sentence the 'vile' offender, with neither bench nor jury. No appeal.

He continued his tirade of judgement until God's servant, prophet Nathan delivered the bombshell- "You are the man". Bewildered, Dave staggeringly sank back into his throne.
How?
When??
Where???

How often do we 'born-again christians' sit in our exalted seats as believers to deliver judgement on others?

How often does the brightness of our halo throw others up in such stark relief that we summarily dismiss them as beyond redemption?

How frequently does the thought of our humility get us so conceited we miss the true meaning of the word?

How like Brother David do we envisage the rot to always come from without our spotless beings?

How unlike Master Jesus are we, who despite having all the facts and the truth at His finger tips decided to let mercy rule with the most profound statement in history- "go and sin no more"

As Christ in His wisdom pointed out to us, we need to first dislodge the log in our eyes before contemplating the speck in our brother's eyes. (Matthew 7:1-5)

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm all for letting others know when they are wrong. I'm also all for showing the right way. The Bible doesn't just advocate it, It commands us to do so. (Titus 2:15).

However, this must be done in, with and out of love. Never should this be done from a holier-than-thou stand point. (Rom 14:1, 15:1)

Of all the multiple privileges we enjoy as christians, condemning others is not a part of the package.

If, like Brother David, you have already drawn conclusions about the next person, why not complete the imitation- swallow your pride, admit you are wrong and seek forgiveness, both from God and man. Once confronted with a "You-are-the-Man" moment of truth, let's not pass the buck. Rather, let's own up. We owe ourselves and the gospel we preach an attitude of active acceptance and sincere penitence.

When a member of The Family errs as is inevitable, let us also be slow to judge and quick to forgive. Let's strike the balance of rebuking with authority, yet correcting in love. Like our master, let us shepherd with both a rod and a staff.

If we kill instead of treating our wounded soldiers, how do we encourage others to join our Army?  As Henry Ward Beecher put it, "the church is not a gallery for the exhibition of eminent christians, but a school for the education of imperfect ones".

Let's make our christianity indeed Christ-like. Then, can we boldly declare the love of Christ. Then, will we radiate that divine warmth capable of attracting people of all nations to the reality of Christ's unconditional love.

God bless you.

In the language I can understand.

"Speak to me, Lord, in the language I can understand".

While I was growing up, that's one prayer my dad prayed, actually still prays, ever so often. Dutiful daughter I was, I picked it up and added it to my personal prayer
vocabulary.

Of course, when I became born-again, that sentence in all its 10-word glory made much more sense to me. From then on, I said it not as a grammatical and flowery addition to my prayers; it became the heart-felt desire of a soul hungry to hear God.

I, however, reserved it for those times I wanted to read the Bible or a Bible-based book. Those moments just before the preacher/speaker at any gathering mounted the podium. Those oh-too-frequent times I didn't know which exactly step to take.

As I read Max Lucado in "He Chose the Nails" (a book i STRONGLY recommend) the chapter titled "I Will Speak to You in Your Language" threw that sentence in a whole new light. After over a decade, the full import of what had almost become a casual mantra really sank in. And believe me, it packed quite a sucker punch- it hit real hard.

I've somehow, always expected God to speak in the vocal tones of my limited human language. My mind had already confined His expressions to those available in my dialect. Even while I said that prayer, the boundaries of my experience bordered the answer. As the words left my mouth, God who searches the heart and tries the reins must have been mildly amused at the mental pre-determined format in which I desired His responses, and my dogged insistence and refusal to even remotely consider the existence of alternative "languages" through which He speaks.

In my ignorant wisdom, as it were, God should be well versed in the idioms, proverbs and nuances of my language for me to understand. I never knew that to Him, speaking to me in the language I could understand goes beyond the boundaries of syntax and structure. I forgot that He who by causing confusion ironically created all human languages at Babel (Gen 11: 7-9) and understands even the chirping of the birds- He sure didn't speak Igbo, English, Hebrew, Aramaic or French when He commanded the ravens to feed Elijah (1 Kings 17:4) could speak my, your or any other language He desires.

Nevertheless, not one to be restricted by the fickleness of human experiences and the shallow imaginations which shape language with all its inadequacies, God moves beyond the realm of speech to the realm of events. He speaks, in Pastor Lucado's words, through the "day-to-day" drama of our individual lives. He reaches through the heavens down to the earth, through eternity into time to impress His Truth in our hearts in such a way that understanding is inevitable.

God articulates truth through the "Abjectness of Adversity". He is quite lucid in the "Language of Laughter". He bellows through the "Bounties of Blessings". He speaks through the "Solemn Silence of Sorrows". He whispers through the "Wintry Winds Weird events". He enunciates clearly through the "Erosion of Ecstasy". He resonates through the "Rhythm of Riches".
Through the "vernacular of want" and through eyes "Misted over by Misery", through "untold pains" and "un-worded wails", through "shared smiles" "corporate conquests" and "bitter betrayals", His intents ring out clearly. He always, always speaks in the language we can understand.

If only we could divest ourselves of preconceived notions and truly listen, we would hear Him. Better still, we would understand.

David must have also had a taste of this experience for him to say "the entrance of your Word gives light, and understanding to the simple". (Ps 119:130).
The word "entrance" presupposes barriers. Things put in place, by us and our environment which stop us from hearing God as He in His wisdom speaks in our own peculiar "language" that would communicate best to us per time. Steel doors on metal frames and rusty immovable hinges that bar God's Words from gaining entrance into our hearts.

As I caught this, I found myself praying.
But as I continued my study, my prayers changed three times within 90 minutes. First, I needed God to over look the door and just speak. Then, I asked Him to oil the hinges so the door would open smoothly and without a squeak. Finally, The Spirit made me understand- "Success, you don't need no doors". So I now pray, God don't just oil the hinges. Don't even stop at opening the door, though that would be mighty nice. God, please, remove the door and pluck away the frame. I'm now prepared to join my predecessors who listened, and understood and learnt. I'm eager to learn new "languages", no matter how difficult. I now say that structurally simple but profoundly meaningful prayer with a brand new heart and from a whole new perspective- I just know it's gonna be an awesome adventure with My Father. "Speak to me, Lord, in the language I can understand".

There's always room for one more person.
Would you care to join Us?

I have an Itch

I.
Have an Itch. 

This Itch emanates from the centre of my being. Right at the junction where pleasure and pain are defined. I respond to the stimulus and I scratch, but instead of abating, the Itch increases in intensity. 

Yes.
 It is exactly what you think. 

Concerned not to embarras myself in public, I rush to the privacy of my room. I take agonising minutes to rid myself of all barriers. 

I must. Repeat. I simply must give this Itch all the attention it requires. 
I must scratch with all diligence. 
I must itch this Itch with all the thoroughness it deserves. 
All encumberances out of the way, I settle down to itch the Itch. 

Oh No, wait. The door is open. 
I can't afford to have this Itching session interrupted. I need my privacy to do this right. I bolt out of bed and bolt the door. 

Finally the stage is set. 

As I begin, I carefully explore all the angles and poke into every crevice. 
Gently at first, I soothe, and then I get into the heat of the event. 

Awwwww, sooo satisfying. 

Before I get carried away, let me let you in and give you a brief 
background to this Itch. 

I woke up this morning with this Itch. 

It's been coming and going for the past 72 hours and i kept ignoring it. 

However, it came out in full force today. Indignant, I guess at being so contemptuously ignored and it's demands outrightly denied. 

Hmmm, this Itch. 

That restless feeling that makes me know there are feelings waiting to be "speakings", thoughts churning to be aired, lines roiling to be penned. 
This Itch that tells me: 
"Put it down". 
"Shout it loud". 
"Make it known". 

It assures... 
There are patterns to be analysed, emotions to be dissected, feelings to be discussed. 

It makes me know that impressions would soon turn into expressions. 

It is that concentration of grammar that makes my throat tight and my fingers fluid. It makes my head float in the skies with my feet firmly planted on terra-firma. 

This itch makes me, even if just for a fraction of a nano-second, a part of the select group of humans who have a way with words; those mortals 
who imitate immortality by employing verbs and nouns and adjectives, who with proverbs and oxymorons and metaphors, and all other such parts and figures of speech create a world of their choosing and discretion. 

Magicians who, regardless of the limitations of organised language, weave the fleeting strands of imagination into a colourful tapestry of "reality". Masterfully dissipating one affection while whipping into frenzy, a passion for another. 
Sonorously orchestrating what would have been the discordant clangs of our individual experiences into a harmonious tune of our common humanity. 

I have spoken. 
I have written. 
I have thought. 
I have crafted. 
And. 
I have created. 

Semantics, concord, lexis and structure aside, The Itch seems to have subsided. 

Whether I made sense or not would most likely be the source of another itch. 

For now, I simply roll over on my stomach and savour the bliss of an Itch-free moment... 

Reminiscing... Ruminating.  As I put pen to paper. I reason.  Since I had to go through the experiences, I might as well remember. Not in bitterness, not for sorrow. But to learn. And to teach.