Sunday, January 21, 2007

3:27 (Empty Page)

It's 3:27 in the morning
And I lie here still awake
Listening to the silence so deafening
While I wait for sleep to overtake
There's a small journal across the room
Unopened, unmarked, unused
But faithfully it sits as shadows loom
A picture of myself and my doom
So beautiful are the unmarked pages
Unspoiled, waiting to hold the words and letters
So terrifying and paralyzing are the mistakes
To inevitably mar something so much better
So much potential to be released on the paper
So many lives to reach and hearts to touch
And yet this is temporal and a vapor
Will this be enough?
Will You write my story on the stars
For them to sing for all eternity?
Or will you write my story on their hearts
For only You and I to sing?
It's 3:27 in the morning
And I lie here; an empty page
Listening to You writing out my story
While I watch the smile on Your face

Saturday, January 6, 2007

Quiet Rest

I came here to the place I died before now
Driven by some nameless urge; not knowing why or how
The rock still stands where the casket lies
Surrounded by the broken shards of that past life
I stood and listened and waited for something unknown
Something or someone to show me a path all my own
But no one came; all stayed silent
And I stood alone in the midst of the quiet
No smiles or handshakes or laughter to face
Just myself, a tree, and a rock in this place
And that when the wind came; a soft, subtle breeze
Flowing in through the trees and dancing with the leaves
And in the dull winter air all that's left is to breathe
Because the person I was searching for was here before me
His voice on the wind whispered so soft, so sweet
The winds caresses were His thoughts concerning me
And there I sat swept away, uncaring about what's next
Finding what my spirit had longed for; quiet rest