Opening My Faith in 3 Minutes

Bonard Walton
4 min readJul 21, 2022


Photo by Aviv Perets from Pexels

The poet buys the power of language at the expense of a secret he cannot tell himself and uses her to tell the terrible secrets of others. Poets have never been apostles. For many years, poets have relied on the power of the devil to drive away the devil. Here is Kierkegaard’s sentence, a description of the poet’s portrait, so accurate that it speaks directly to my situation.

When I was a poet, I tried to create a paradise of words, I wish many beauties come and settle here, I fantasized about being the lover of the masses, the reader on the stage, the king in the secret room. Later, I started to write about economics in a lyrical way of poetry, hoping to show the spirit of humanism in the field of economics and call for freedom and rights, so as to attract the readers’ enthusiastic attention. Poetry is my consistent attitude, and compared to such public writing, poetry seems very niche.

Poetry writing is the way of writing that I have always insisted on. Since I was 17 years old, poetry has been a compulsory course for my writing. For a long time, my poetry has always been empirical, lyrical, and hopeless, including criticism of pain. , but also the emptiness and hesitation of personal bodies and dreams. Over the years, I’ve made a nice-looking devil out of my sentences and then tried to drive away others.

In my spiritual world, the demons of past have not been driven away, new ones have been born. Different styles of devils are shining brightly world. You and I have formed a beautiful marriage relationship.

Thank God, I heard this word , completed my faith in minute, into the language of God. I was predestined and longing and dense character made me knock on the narrow door. No doubt, No hesitation, Tears talking mourning and joy.

Facing the darkness of human nature, pointing to eternal thinking. This is an update of my words, an exodus of my poetry. I have lost interest in the applause associated with poets in this world, may all my poems be acceptable to God, may my trembling poems fly like doves, may my readers encounter my poems, you only need to look at them to know that I and they are brothers and sisters in the same spirit, a group of children who always resonate in Christ.

When poetry underwent a paradigm shift because of my beliefs, I saw for the first time the dilemma of liberalism I had been fascinated with.

Left liberals, suspicion and criticism of the world and try to design a perfect ideological system to save the world. They are independent, compassionate, practical, and generally believe that the world will get better, not worse, because of rational improvement and free dialogue. Typical characters such as Frank Knight, Rawls, and Amartya Madison. I would like to see them as my good mentors and friends, and when they conceive of a brave new world, don’t forget that this world has always been a miserable world and that everyone in this world is guilty, even a righteous person is found not.

The human heart is a huge void, and without true Christianity, we look for visible things to comfort us. Sometimes we think that money can solve all problems, sometimes we think that power is a panacea, and sometimes we simply think, let’s work hard, when the world becomes beautiful enough, our happiness will come as expected.

I cannot leave some beautiful space. Locke said: “God’s will, when clothed with words, must be ambiguous; just as the Son of God, when clothed with flesh, had to endure all the weaknesses of human nature (except sin).” Locke’s statement is good. The former sentence presents the absolute predicament based on the powerlessness of human language; the latter sentence shows the omnipresence of the darkness of human nature. The depth of the suspicion of human nature, the depth of human happiness.

Reminds a movie scene, the earth is destroyed, and the fire will engulf everything. At this time, an old couple chose not to accuse God, nor to cry in despair, but two old bodies embraced each other and smiled together to meet death.

If I don’t understand disasters and tragedies until death,I still a dimensional person after. Tragedy is the face of death. But, love can prevail. I will leave the world, when I see Christ stretching out his hand to me, I will softly say, yes, I have loved, so here I am.



Bonard Walton

Freelance Writer. Leftist critic. Here I recently started writing for a living as a professional paid writer. I enjoys writing about numerous topic