Storm brewing
inside- tumultuous
raging wind
swept alleys,
twisters lifting
dusty thought,
lurking- behind
bitter skies,
reign coming,
washing away,
dreary doldrums,
mired, in clay.
Day, breaks-
hands lifted,
receiving- the
blessing.
Storm brewing
inside- tumultuous
raging wind
swept alleys,
twisters lifting
dusty thought,
lurking- behind
bitter skies,
reign coming,
washing away,
dreary doldrums,
mired, in clay.
Day, breaks-
hands lifted,
receiving- the
blessing.
In the storm that rages all around,
I am, the figure standing tall.
I am, not swept away by squalls.
My feet are firmly planted,
the roots run to the core.
I will not topple,
though some do not see,
they cannot see,
until,
the flash of light,
and for a moment,
they do.
In the morning
when I pray,
in the brilliance
of the day.
Wondering how
I might feel,
if You turned
to me and said,
“You’re real.”
There are these
who do not see,
the glory of,
Your majesty.
While demons
shudder and
think; to us
they nod
and wink.
Knowing He
from above;
The One filled
with love,
will banish
them, for
eternity.