20:48.

The sky changed on my way home.

From the glorious sunset lasting from the time I left work to when I walked against the commuters crush right to the end of Woodlands MRT platform so I could take a photo of the gorgeous colours above (I was duly amused when the station played their pls don't go near the edge warning when I reached my destination) to the cobalt sky as I walk home after dawdling around Causeway Point in search of something that my appetite could find fanciable 'nuff to when I was nearing my apartment block and the hues up above took on a reddish tinge.

Under the blood red sky.

The wind moves differently, feels as if it's from a special storeroom God has at the corner of heaven away from where its common cousin is kept. Not that heaven has limits.

You can feel in your bones that a storm's on its way.

And I can't wait for it to rain down.

-------------------------------------------------------------





7





... days.

Just one more week.

....

Whew.

You know that illustration of a runner keeping her eyes on the finishing line?

It's the last 100 metres.

The legs have long felt like they are going to fall off any moment and whatever other thoughts you have about them switches from pure numbness to a paranoia you fear may be grounded that one limb will just go into some spasm and fail you any random time.

Your eyes no longer feel the salty sting of perspiration dropping in but your vision's getting blurred by those droplets.

Your lungs, your waist, every joint hurts with every movement, every heave, every pant, every lifting of the feet, the thighs, the hamstrings, heck everything feels the effort, even your arms... you half wish you don't have them as they swing front-back, front-back in pumping mode.

You haven't heard the sounds of the spectators since very early on in the race. All you are aware of is the beat of your heart and the thump that resonates throughout your soul every time a foot lands.

It's the last 100 metres, that is all.

And all you can do is what you have been doing since a time you can't put a finger exactly on but you know the mantra long entrenched in your being - trust, obey, run on, girl - is true as it always has been. And at the last lap, the voice in your head saying almost there seemed almost flat because you have been running on push and hold on for well, a while.

But you are almost there, you are almost there, there is no giving up. Not these last seven days, not this year, not next year, not this lifetime, never.

God, more than us, You are. And I'm waiting on You to blow my mind. I'm not even waiting for 2006 to reach before You blow me away again. Lord, I want to see You!

I'm not stopping.

All I am for all You are.
All I have for all You are.

Jesus.