My Lyrical Journey of Soulful Rhymes

(A recount of the Senvon PKṬP's 52nd Annual Conference, Nov. 21-23, 2025 @ Senvon) At Senvon’s fold, last week’s crisp air and sound, Three days of faith in Senvon PKṬP’s thrall, The fifty-second year, a sacred round, With spirit full, yet icy night did call. My feet, ached cold beneath three blankets’ weight, White breaths of winter crept in layered chill, Long hours till warmth would grant the sleep I’d wait, Yet the Competition song “A Kutpha Ropui Sûngah” stirred my will. The rough road from Lungthulien’s embrace, With powder red and white a fleeting mask, Like half-done visage (facial) marked upon my face, Endured it all, this pilgrimage and task. Though freezing winds did bite and bones could tire, “In the Hollow of His Hand” is restored my heart’s desire. © 25-11-2025 Pastor Emmanuel Serto

  At Bungjang’s edge the rivulet breathes near, Its waters curl and clasp the roots of green, Dew clicks on leaves like whispers, soft and clear, A prayerful hush before the world’s first scene. The earth drinks deep without a storm’s command, No voice of rain has yet disturbed the sky; No clouds have dared to break with heavy hand, Only mist’s grace; a holy, gentle sigh. Like God’s own breath upon the virgin soil, It lifts and rests on untouched, fertile ground, I think how Eden felt that sacred toil, When life first bloomed without the rain’s sound. O wondrous time, before the storm’s refrain, The world’s first grace: a life unfed by rain. © 16-11-2025 Pastor Emmanuel Serto