Senvon: Endurance in Cold and Faith



(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

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What If?

Image
  What if the emerald field were Rome once more, a modern circus crowned with light and flame? What if the cheers concealed a deeper roar, while countless hearts were drawn into the game? What if each anthem stirred the soul by art, each banner waved to guide the watching throng? What if the match were theatre at heart, its triumphs timed to keep the crowd lifelong? What if, like WWE beneath the lights, each twist were known before the whistle's call? What if rehearsed became our fiercest fights, yet none perceived the script behind it all? What if we watched while others shaped our sight? Yet still Spain, Argentina, and England shine bright. © 2026 Pastor Emmanuel Serto
Read more

To Be or Not To Be: A Soul's Solemn Query

Image
To be or not to be, that is the quest: Whether 'tis nobler in the heart to bear The slings and arrows of outrageous tests, Or to take arms against a sea of care, And by resisting end them? To endure To sleep, no more; and say we end the ache Of time's unyielding heart, the spirit's lure Of burdens borne for heaven's fleeting sake. To die, to dream, no more. Ay, there's the rift, The undiscovered country from whose bourn No pilgrim e'er returns, our shadowed drift Into eternity's unyielding morn. Thus conscience makes cowards of us all, Yet faith redeems the fall. © 2026 Pastor Emmanuel Serto
Read more

Epstein and the Weight of Witness

Image
  For more than seven days my rest has fled, The Epstein Files like fire within my bones; They haunt my waking hours, crowd my head, A witness crying out from guarded thrones. They speak of nights where power fed on shame, Of doors unsealed yet willfully ignored; Woe to the hands that knew, yet never named, Woe to the courts that bargained truth for order. We trusted crowns that promised to defend, Believed the strong would shield the frail and small; But silence proved a traitor, not a friend, And fear became the loudest voice of all. This is the hour: let hidden things be shown; For truth will rise, though long it wept alone. © 2026 Pastor Emmanuel Serto
Read more