As I watched my life drift away.
Year by year still the same.
One blow and then another.
Like a tornado on a mission of massacre.
It sweeps over my human structure.
Piece by piece and layer by layer.
What remains is little but precious.
I gather the pieces of thankfulness.
Lifting it up, I wait for His presence.
He takes the materials of what remains.
To create a revealing plan face to face.
To take me from this perishable place.
To breath in me a freshness of His Joy.
Rekindling a new state of being.
A product of His divine planing.
Be still and know He is God.
Through the silence and the noise.
He's creating something, all this time.
By: Clark Judovsky
No comments:
Post a Comment