Perhaps all hope is lost when time expires, the sands run out and wishful thinking becomes regular bread and butter. Perhaps all hope is found when time is not of the essence and faith overcomes the senses.
I never took anything for granted as I left the house. I was certain of one thing, hunger. There was a strike within my innards as they screamed in agony at the chaos that surrounded them. I had gathered every coin I could find and knew for certain that I was short. My legs felt like logs strapped with sand bags and sunken in the deepest of oceans. My arms were swollen from the steel rods that now replaced my bones allowing gravity to take its toll. My mind spoke volumes, you can do better than this, you are just a phone call away from it! Make the call and your wish will be granted.
I failed to listen to this voice but navigated my path across the road and then avoided the dog faeces as I walked casually to the shop. When I entered the shop the cashier briefly glanced in my direction and then returned to the box. There was a bored look in her eyes as she sampled the morning television programs. There were one or two people in the shop picking up items and I waited. Now wasn’t the time. It was wise to wait at least until we were alone then try. Soon I got past the first hurdle for there was a short cue at the cashiers as the other shoppers paid off their items. I walked over to the milk section and picked up a bottle and walked to the cashier, it was my turn. I passed over the coins in my hands and waited.
‘Sir, you are short by a few pence?’ She said.
‘I know.’ I replied.
‘Then I can’t give you what you want.’ She answered.
‘You can. Give me this today and tomorrow I’ll bring in the rest.’ I said.
She looked at me for what felt like an eternity and then said,
‘Okay you can have it this time.’
I said thank you and left. As I walked back home I felt the rods in my arms grow feathers and my steps quicken as the thought of logs became beautiful trees lined up on the side of a forest road. Before long I was heating the milk and pouring cereal into it and then appeasing the chaos from within.
One might think my experience is a one off and couldn’t happen again if I tried. Perhaps they would be right but what is of importance is that it did happen. Hope is not based on time or on what we can see. Hope is based on faith and knowing that what we wish for is ours even before we get it.
I did not return to the shop the following day but I did so several days later and as hard as I tried, I knew the cashier had forgotten who I was even though she took the money.
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
Friday, 17 December 2010
Alpha Omega Sword...
When the darkness surrounds your heart engulfing pieces of it and purging lava that burns the blood through your veins, the world shrinks before your eyes and the distant coastline becomes a walk to the bathtub. No one hears or sees you. No one can tell or relate to you. You ponder through countless thought for better or for worse yearning for change one way or another. Doing the right thing isn’t enough. Doing the wrong thing never brings fulfillment. You hurt, spill blood and naturally drain out. As sound fades away in this tunnel, you are left with nothing but for the chimes of your heart as it beats slowly.
In this basement you are locked away forgotten and covered in dust. Once upon a time you were la crème de la crème, the rare wine bought at a good price but priceless itself and tucked away for that special occasion. You waited each day to be pulled out of your ranks and drunk with desire, wonder and need. Nowadays you rarely see the light that creeps in through the alarmingly small window of the basement. All you can do is listen to the footsteps pounding the floorboards and hope that they twirl in your direction.
And then you feel it, an awe that consigns the blistering stars and galaxies above into a mere shadow in comparison. At the brink of this beautiful garden is an everlasting truth that sparkles a wonder. What separates you from yonder is a flaming two-edged sword bathing in the luminance of this brilliance. It is a weapon to strike at the heart of the darkness that lurks from within. It is a weapon to cure the illness that drowses the dense hours that fill each day. Make it your soul and partner. Make it words of truth and faith from your mouth. Make it peace and warmth. Make it patience as you sharpen its tilt each day. Pick it up when ready to cross this threshold and never look back as it lashes the wind and rips oceans apart. Make it a keepsake, for the alpha omega sword is a separation between the past and what lies before thee. Freedom is yours to weave at the edge of your sword. Welcome to the New Jerusalem you are reborn...
In this basement you are locked away forgotten and covered in dust. Once upon a time you were la crème de la crème, the rare wine bought at a good price but priceless itself and tucked away for that special occasion. You waited each day to be pulled out of your ranks and drunk with desire, wonder and need. Nowadays you rarely see the light that creeps in through the alarmingly small window of the basement. All you can do is listen to the footsteps pounding the floorboards and hope that they twirl in your direction.
And then you feel it, an awe that consigns the blistering stars and galaxies above into a mere shadow in comparison. At the brink of this beautiful garden is an everlasting truth that sparkles a wonder. What separates you from yonder is a flaming two-edged sword bathing in the luminance of this brilliance. It is a weapon to strike at the heart of the darkness that lurks from within. It is a weapon to cure the illness that drowses the dense hours that fill each day. Make it your soul and partner. Make it words of truth and faith from your mouth. Make it peace and warmth. Make it patience as you sharpen its tilt each day. Pick it up when ready to cross this threshold and never look back as it lashes the wind and rips oceans apart. Make it a keepsake, for the alpha omega sword is a separation between the past and what lies before thee. Freedom is yours to weave at the edge of your sword. Welcome to the New Jerusalem you are reborn...
Monday, 6 December 2010
Spreading wings....
It is not often I get to talk about my book, Eli, but I got a chance on the Authors Show and felt there is no harm in mentioning this sort of free publicity. I believe some authors out there may need this.
The webpage is www.AuthorsWebTV.com
I am on it now running until the 8th December, blabbing away and almost forgetting keypoints! One thing though Danielle the host of the show does a remarkable job. I never thought webtv at this distance could work out so well. I hope you'll enjoy it and want to read Eli.
The webpage is www.AuthorsWebTV.com
I am on it now running until the 8th December, blabbing away and almost forgetting keypoints! One thing though Danielle the host of the show does a remarkable job. I never thought webtv at this distance could work out so well. I hope you'll enjoy it and want to read Eli.
Friday, 3 December 2010
Faces...
Grains of sand scattered through the wind, eyelids fluttering like the wings of doves, the truth lies in not knowing. Now here is a face for you, rage, what I see is anger and the depth of disappointment, staring into the abyss of discontent and frustration, wanting to strike out at someone but pounding the soil a thousand and one times and destroying the good within. Suddenly there is motion in the clouds above and oh dear it is fear. An initiation into a realm of uncertainties, palpitations, unconscious groaning and the eyes of the dog that scurries with its tail between its legs. The fearful mind seeks a selvedge that keeps it from unraveling the truth of its need for escape.
Next stop along this endless highway, boredom. Yes, I am looking at you. The face that’s shouting I’m here because you made me! I have no choice in the matter and now that I’m here you will pay for making me do this. Brother, it is thyself that suffers I'll move on.
Thoughtful, who me, you ask? Yes you, the mudlark of the universe, enquiring into thoughts and beyond becoming the proselyte, Professor Xavier is an infant before your deeds. Does your day end in satisfaction or are you pondering through endless wonders of what lies for the morrow. Oh dear, I turn the page and who’s next and stares with those eyes at me but none other than Wisdom. Oh virtuous one, in your face we embrace thy presence amongst us but do not be deceived because we make you real. You cannot exist without us minions if you must build that gopher, Noah would have been proud of you.
Smile, warmth and hurrah, be this face but don’t hide behind it, it is not what others see that matters it is what you feel that counts. Do not be the gimcrack, be the gem, the jewel that glitters before us and where thou goeth we shall follow in thy footsteps. In this espial the sun shines within and you reflect its beautiful radiance as a mirror.
We are many people with many faces in one world and one universe. We should have one God. There is one God. Amen.
Next stop along this endless highway, boredom. Yes, I am looking at you. The face that’s shouting I’m here because you made me! I have no choice in the matter and now that I’m here you will pay for making me do this. Brother, it is thyself that suffers I'll move on.
Thoughtful, who me, you ask? Yes you, the mudlark of the universe, enquiring into thoughts and beyond becoming the proselyte, Professor Xavier is an infant before your deeds. Does your day end in satisfaction or are you pondering through endless wonders of what lies for the morrow. Oh dear, I turn the page and who’s next and stares with those eyes at me but none other than Wisdom. Oh virtuous one, in your face we embrace thy presence amongst us but do not be deceived because we make you real. You cannot exist without us minions if you must build that gopher, Noah would have been proud of you.
Smile, warmth and hurrah, be this face but don’t hide behind it, it is not what others see that matters it is what you feel that counts. Do not be the gimcrack, be the gem, the jewel that glitters before us and where thou goeth we shall follow in thy footsteps. In this espial the sun shines within and you reflect its beautiful radiance as a mirror.
We are many people with many faces in one world and one universe. We should have one God. There is one God. Amen.
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
My french connection...
Stockholm was at its busiest this time of the year. It was early spring and people poured out of the shops in numbers as they chased the seasonal fashion spree. Gerard and I could just manage to keep abreast with each other as we dodged our way through the crowds. We headed for the Indonesian restaurant that stood boxed in between a string of designer wear shops, our stomachs already grumbling in anticipation of what was to come. It hadn’t been a difficult decision to make as we had chosen the Saturday out from our usual weekly habitat in Gavle, a small remote city in the north of the country. We were already suffocating from the ciabatta bread that was served each day in the confines of our hotel and feeling more confident with the power of our Swedish Krona we decided that a day out in the country’s capital could do us some good.
Our morning had been spent combing parts of the city centre that headed towards the Baltic Sea. We had walked through narrow streets with very tall buildings that dwarfed even the likes of the tall Scandinavian population. Now we were a hungry pair drowning in our woes and looking for compensation of the nutritive kind.
We entered the Indonesian restaurant and immediately decided upon the top floor. The crowd was lighter and with the kind of day we had faced on the outside we needed the peace to hear ourselves talk. I could already feel the nerves in my feet screaming in agony at me and I knew standing in a queue as most of the other customers did to seek the best seats on the ground floor was out of the question. I needed to rest from our three hours trek and it didn’t matter to me whether or not the upstairs was an unpopular choice.
I listened to the familiar clatter of dishes and pans that vibrated through the swinging doors as the waiters rushed in and out of the kitchen and knew that my time in Sweden was coming to an end and I could sense that Gerard was aware of this. It was interesting to hear what Gerard would say considering that I had made up my mind to leave the project even before we got to Sweden. Gerard had become a good friend immediately after joining the company. He was a French graduate and needed a mentor to see him through the business world. I elected for this position seeing the potential in his ambition hoping to pass on what little experience I had gathered through the years. We had already worked together on other projects and it had now become apparent that I needed to start withdrawing my support. It was a tough thing to do because I was used to making the difference, seeing the spoils of my work burn holes in the eyes of customers. However this was Gerard’s time and even though I was pushing company policy I had a responsibility to his development.
‘You cannot do this to me, man,’ he said in his calm French accent. ‘We came here together so we should leave together, what would I do after work? This is crazy.’
‘I know, but you need the experience,’ I spoke persuasively hoping that he would gain favour in the positive side of my argument. I knew it was weak to throw this in at the time but the reality of the situation was that the time on his own in the realms of a deserted environment was what Gerard needed.
The spiritual world bears a relation to the many trends of events that manifests themselves in our lives. Our ways as man seek refuge behind mortal thoughts of wisdom, kindness and a justice that is served to the pleasure of man. There are several things that went on between my friend and I that I found apposite of wisdom in the spiritual world. The spiritual food we pass on to each other these days is irrelevant to the hunger we face. We carry on in our own conceit believing that we are helping one another yet what we require spiritually is rarely what is provided.
Today I don’t work with my friend for I left that job a while back but my friend told me something a year later that made me realize I had made a difference in his life. He claimed that in the first instance he had thought I was arrogant to walk away from the project and assume that it was his duty to carry on. However he had built a name for himself and the strength to manage a project from that experience. Today, I believe that I passed on a spiritual strength through listening to the needs of my friend’s spirit rather than his heart. I cannot speak with confidence that I have done this successfully in all cases but it is an example of the kind of mortal weaknesses we all face.
Our morning had been spent combing parts of the city centre that headed towards the Baltic Sea. We had walked through narrow streets with very tall buildings that dwarfed even the likes of the tall Scandinavian population. Now we were a hungry pair drowning in our woes and looking for compensation of the nutritive kind.
We entered the Indonesian restaurant and immediately decided upon the top floor. The crowd was lighter and with the kind of day we had faced on the outside we needed the peace to hear ourselves talk. I could already feel the nerves in my feet screaming in agony at me and I knew standing in a queue as most of the other customers did to seek the best seats on the ground floor was out of the question. I needed to rest from our three hours trek and it didn’t matter to me whether or not the upstairs was an unpopular choice.
I listened to the familiar clatter of dishes and pans that vibrated through the swinging doors as the waiters rushed in and out of the kitchen and knew that my time in Sweden was coming to an end and I could sense that Gerard was aware of this. It was interesting to hear what Gerard would say considering that I had made up my mind to leave the project even before we got to Sweden. Gerard had become a good friend immediately after joining the company. He was a French graduate and needed a mentor to see him through the business world. I elected for this position seeing the potential in his ambition hoping to pass on what little experience I had gathered through the years. We had already worked together on other projects and it had now become apparent that I needed to start withdrawing my support. It was a tough thing to do because I was used to making the difference, seeing the spoils of my work burn holes in the eyes of customers. However this was Gerard’s time and even though I was pushing company policy I had a responsibility to his development.
‘You cannot do this to me, man,’ he said in his calm French accent. ‘We came here together so we should leave together, what would I do after work? This is crazy.’
‘I know, but you need the experience,’ I spoke persuasively hoping that he would gain favour in the positive side of my argument. I knew it was weak to throw this in at the time but the reality of the situation was that the time on his own in the realms of a deserted environment was what Gerard needed.
The spiritual world bears a relation to the many trends of events that manifests themselves in our lives. Our ways as man seek refuge behind mortal thoughts of wisdom, kindness and a justice that is served to the pleasure of man. There are several things that went on between my friend and I that I found apposite of wisdom in the spiritual world. The spiritual food we pass on to each other these days is irrelevant to the hunger we face. We carry on in our own conceit believing that we are helping one another yet what we require spiritually is rarely what is provided.
Today I don’t work with my friend for I left that job a while back but my friend told me something a year later that made me realize I had made a difference in his life. He claimed that in the first instance he had thought I was arrogant to walk away from the project and assume that it was his duty to carry on. However he had built a name for himself and the strength to manage a project from that experience. Today, I believe that I passed on a spiritual strength through listening to the needs of my friend’s spirit rather than his heart. I cannot speak with confidence that I have done this successfully in all cases but it is an example of the kind of mortal weaknesses we all face.
Monday, 22 November 2010
A cross to bear...
I called it a false spring, I guess this is because when I looked out of my window it appeared to be a bright morning mingled with remnants from a long summer, but what was hidden behind this façade was the cold wintry months to follow. If I was expecting to find refuge in this then I was in for a surprise. Like every temporal accommodation it depicted the thought of freedom, a place of safety free from the degrading elements in life and the infinite pressures that overcame one. Many would have said it was the thought that counted, having the liberty to escape a moment of indecision just for that instant in time when all could be forgotten. This was never the case. I knew that in running from the problem I was merely sinking deeper into it.
The parade came to halt and we all backed up into one another as the lead vehicle pulled over to the side. I watched the newly weds stroll in with style, surrounded by the masses of people that cheered them on. I was a close friend but so far from it all at that moment because the party was now in full swing and the past had been forgotten. Time had eluded my wishes and made me a fountain for excuses. I watched the family and friends follow the couple in to the house with camera flashes blinding in the false spring and I wondered when my time would come. I walked into the crowded house making myself as invisible as I could. There were many faces from the past that would have recognized mine and then the questions would start.
‘When would your time come?’ I could just hear them now like rocket-propelled grenades in battle. One knew they were coming and dived for cover, yet the outcome was never predictable. It was hard to tell what part of your anatomy would be remaining after each one. I had been here already several times, parties of this nature, busy with people enjoying the finer things in life and it never failed to escape my mind the way in which one could be sociable without stealing the limelight or appearing to be obnoxious. In the past my invisible ability had not gone amiss for I was always able to slip into the shadows talking to those that I wished to and others who desired to reach me. It wasn’t to my choice or better judgment as one never knew who was making the most out of the party. However I wanted to explore this new mystery and why it was prudent to keep in the shadows. It wasn’t the social skill of the decade but it had ramifications in the spiritual world. This setting was ideal for many reasons. It was a wedding that brought two people together, a setting that was pure in respect for the vows that were made between two people to share the same life throughout their human existence. Then there was the invisible nature that could be envisaged by those who were hardly noticed in a party this large. The day itself cast a mystery on itself by being a morning that was given the nature of a false spring. I knew there was plenty for me to learn from all of this and the weariness I had felt a few hours ago in the car.
“Let us be glad and rejoice and ‘give honour to him: for’ the marriage of the Lamb is come, and ‘his wife hath made herself ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.”
It was time to answer the question that had been surging through my mind for years. How could one truly make themselves ready? The spiritual man was chosen to be the bride of the Lord preparing himself through life accepting every word of God and abiding in his commandments and here I was in a wedding having already failed in my attempt to even enjoy the ceremony. So how did being invisible creep into my mind? That too was obvious for I was invisible to man because I was spoken for in the spirit. This was natural because the spiritual man is born invisible when he accepts the Lord at which time he is overlooked on most occasions. The two things tied in beautifully for the spiritual man is invisible because he is spoken for as a bride of some one else that is far greater than anything on this earth. This was certainly a breakthrough! It made a lot of sense why I felt left out and abandoned because I had already been spoken for to serve another. Yet if I was weak there was no doubt I would return to my old ways seeking comfort again back in the world and looking only at man for satisfaction. Today parties have no more become days of false spring, days in which the cold is hidden in the shades. Parties are what they are whether I am visible or invisible for the truth remains that either way it is the wish of the Lord.
The parade came to halt and we all backed up into one another as the lead vehicle pulled over to the side. I watched the newly weds stroll in with style, surrounded by the masses of people that cheered them on. I was a close friend but so far from it all at that moment because the party was now in full swing and the past had been forgotten. Time had eluded my wishes and made me a fountain for excuses. I watched the family and friends follow the couple in to the house with camera flashes blinding in the false spring and I wondered when my time would come. I walked into the crowded house making myself as invisible as I could. There were many faces from the past that would have recognized mine and then the questions would start.
‘When would your time come?’ I could just hear them now like rocket-propelled grenades in battle. One knew they were coming and dived for cover, yet the outcome was never predictable. It was hard to tell what part of your anatomy would be remaining after each one. I had been here already several times, parties of this nature, busy with people enjoying the finer things in life and it never failed to escape my mind the way in which one could be sociable without stealing the limelight or appearing to be obnoxious. In the past my invisible ability had not gone amiss for I was always able to slip into the shadows talking to those that I wished to and others who desired to reach me. It wasn’t to my choice or better judgment as one never knew who was making the most out of the party. However I wanted to explore this new mystery and why it was prudent to keep in the shadows. It wasn’t the social skill of the decade but it had ramifications in the spiritual world. This setting was ideal for many reasons. It was a wedding that brought two people together, a setting that was pure in respect for the vows that were made between two people to share the same life throughout their human existence. Then there was the invisible nature that could be envisaged by those who were hardly noticed in a party this large. The day itself cast a mystery on itself by being a morning that was given the nature of a false spring. I knew there was plenty for me to learn from all of this and the weariness I had felt a few hours ago in the car.
“Let us be glad and rejoice and ‘give honour to him: for’ the marriage of the Lamb is come, and ‘his wife hath made herself ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.”
It was time to answer the question that had been surging through my mind for years. How could one truly make themselves ready? The spiritual man was chosen to be the bride of the Lord preparing himself through life accepting every word of God and abiding in his commandments and here I was in a wedding having already failed in my attempt to even enjoy the ceremony. So how did being invisible creep into my mind? That too was obvious for I was invisible to man because I was spoken for in the spirit. This was natural because the spiritual man is born invisible when he accepts the Lord at which time he is overlooked on most occasions. The two things tied in beautifully for the spiritual man is invisible because he is spoken for as a bride of some one else that is far greater than anything on this earth. This was certainly a breakthrough! It made a lot of sense why I felt left out and abandoned because I had already been spoken for to serve another. Yet if I was weak there was no doubt I would return to my old ways seeking comfort again back in the world and looking only at man for satisfaction. Today parties have no more become days of false spring, days in which the cold is hidden in the shades. Parties are what they are whether I am visible or invisible for the truth remains that either way it is the wish of the Lord.
Sunday, 21 November 2010
Happy Blog Jog Day!
Welcome to blog jog day and thank you so much for stopping by!
Check out my new book Eli and read through some of these heart warming articles and then jog on to Pat's Blog next on the list.
DRAGON MY FEET
Thank you and happy hunting!
Leslie
ELI is divided into three parts as listed below. 
Part two goes back to the late 19 and early 20th centuries during the height of slavery in West Africa . It is about the life of Cephas’s great grand father Salem Basel Switzerland Cameroon Salem 
Part three is the core of the novel and as absurd as this might sound was written first. It is mainly set in the streets of China
Eli Pacific Book Review by Gary Sorkin
Check out my new book Eli and read through some of these heart warming articles and then jog on to Pat's Blog next on the list.
DRAGON MY FEET
Thank you and happy hunting!
Leslie
ELI means ‘My God’ and is taking from the Holy Bible in the words ‘ELI, ELI lama sabacthani’. ELI is a spiritual book and the second in a trilogy that begun with the book Divinity Dawns. It is partly an autobiography with the names of the characters in the book altered. It is set in Riyadh Dublin , Bahrain Brisbane London Lisbon , New York Douala Basel Geneva
Part one delves into the life of the hero Cephas as he discards his past and travels to the Middle East in pursuit of fulfillment and strengthening of his faith in God. He faces different tests physically, mentally and spiritually enabling him to come through better equipped with the strength and desire to fulfill his dream of writing about ELI. It is during his time in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
Eli Pacific Book Review by Gary Sorkin
Beautifully written in a first person format, Leslie Musoko brought me into the mind and thoughts of characters of immense spirituality seeking their destiny, in a masterpiece composition, ELI. Revelations between reality and the spirit world conflict within their minds, as his novel brought me into the depths of human awareness. Skillfully written using multiple dimensions of thoughts, feelings and actions of his protagonist, combined with the minutia of detail Leslie Musoko amassed from his life experiences and research, he constructs a philosophical pulpit. I felt transported into the mind of his character Cephas; seeing through his eyes, feeling through his touch, sensing all around him whilst listening to his thoughts, understanding his faith and witnessing first-hand his cognitive awareness. Kudos to Mr. Musoko for achieving such an artful literary feat.
I knew I was in for a treat from the very first page, during the Prelude, he writes, “Cry I say, cry I wish, yet there are no tears from me. I am all cried out, all dried up.” For those words written told me volumes about Leslie Musoko’s sensitivity and literary skills. His pen scribes an acme of articulation, reminiscent of eternal quotes and commensurate as a Shakespearian coinage. The introspective contemplative lamellate of his characters’ personality, juxtaposed against their logical layer, or public façade layer, divulges the depth of Musokos’ erudition of character development. The quest to find his character’s sanctuary in faith brings us all closer to our own. “Eli” translated meaning “My God” was exclaimed by Jesus Christ on the cross. “Eli, Eli lama sabathani,” said Jesus. “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”
Eli is the second of a trilogy series of writing about Cephas, a Christian put to tests of his faith through a series of challenging circumstances. Achieving an advanced caliper of literary percipience, Leslie Musoko’s Eli is recommended to all readers with a cultivated appreciation of character development, epic storytelling, and faith based philosophy. I found it to be challenging and stimulating. One thought, written somewhere in the storyline, Musoko stated how odd it is for humans to have evolved to a point in their use of language where at times it is used to mislead or mask one’s innermost feelings. How absurd a culture would embrace such deceptive tactics, he pontificated. Mr. Musoko leads no reader down a path of deception, nor does he fraudulently portray his thoughts. Eli is communication at its highest level of veracity.
Eli - APEX REVIEWS by Josee Morgan
As Cephas continues his trek to Saudi Arabia in pursuit of his inheritance, he soon discovers that discarding his past will be a much more difficult task than he anticipated. With his personal life steeped in confusion and uncertainty, not to mention his spirit nearly broken, Cephas is forced to rely on little more than his faith to survive in an increasingly challenging world. Little does he know, though, his current trials and tribulations - no matter how formidable - are just the beginning...
Thoughtful, moving, and deeply introspective, Eli is an immensely rewarding read. Skillfully crafted by author Leslie Musoko, this second installment of a compelling new trilogy takes the reader deep into the mind and heart of a devout Christian struggling to reconcile his faith with the often hostile reality that surrounds him. Not only that, he must also contend with the internal forces threatening to cloud his judgment and distract him from the all-important spiritual quest for which he's been pre-anointed. As deep as it all may sound, Musoko does a commendable job of framing Cephas' physical and metaphorical journey in clear, accessible terms, fostering a profound empathy within the reader - regardless of your specific personal faith. In so doing, Eli serves as an invaluable guide for anyone who finds themselves similarly conflicted in the spirit; by following Cephas' brave example, we will find it much easier to handle the emergent spiritual tests that unexpectedly befall our everyday paths.
Equally riveting and profound, Eli is an instant storytelling classic. Be on the lookout for more compelling works from this promising new literary talent on the rise.
Thoughtful, moving, and deeply introspective, Eli is an immensely rewarding read. Skillfully crafted by author Leslie Musoko, this second installment of a compelling new trilogy takes the reader deep into the mind and heart of a devout Christian struggling to reconcile his faith with the often hostile reality that surrounds him. Not only that, he must also contend with the internal forces threatening to cloud his judgment and distract him from the all-important spiritual quest for which he's been pre-anointed. As deep as it all may sound, Musoko does a commendable job of framing Cephas' physical and metaphorical journey in clear, accessible terms, fostering a profound empathy within the reader - regardless of your specific personal faith. In so doing, Eli serves as an invaluable guide for anyone who finds themselves similarly conflicted in the spirit; by following Cephas' brave example, we will find it much easier to handle the emergent spiritual tests that unexpectedly befall our everyday paths.
Equally riveting and profound, Eli is an instant storytelling classic. Be on the lookout for more compelling works from this promising new literary talent on the rise.
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