Your love is like a melody that calms my heart each day,
and stills my heart from crying, at life's great frothy fray.
Despair and doubt, they cloud my mind, and veil You from my sight,
but softly calling out my name, I hear You in the night.
How I try to remember, oh how easy to forget,
the life that You have given, You are giving longer yet.
My worries seem so simple, when stacked by Your great pains,
they're no longer grand old mountains, precipitous peaks unscathed.
A single set of tracks I see, upon that mountain top,
it shows You've been ahead of me, and warns me not to stop.
My valleys and my peaks I've seen, but this is not the end,
the journey's ever greater still, waiting just around the bend.
All the content here contained was written by myself.
Unless, of course, I tell you that it was by someone else...
Unless, of course, I tell you that it was by someone else...
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
The Beginning of Song
A Song in my head, and a song in my heart,
I'll bring them to you, if only in part.
Part whimsey, part learning, part joyful, part sad,
when you read what's been written, you'll be glad that you had!
Would that we watched as the song did unfold
for the very first time in the days of the Old.
When the very first man and his new wife-to-be,
sat close and hummed soft, the first melody.
What a journey to be able to travel through time,
and watch as was writ, the first nursery rhyme.
though poets and writers, they do come and go,
still unto the cradle recite what we know.
My prayer for these pages is that you will find
a new love for living the path that unwinds.
my mind is the canvas, my heart is the pen,
so thus let our voyage together begin!
I'll bring them to you, if only in part.
Part whimsey, part learning, part joyful, part sad,
when you read what's been written, you'll be glad that you had!
Would that we watched as the song did unfold
for the very first time in the days of the Old.
When the very first man and his new wife-to-be,
sat close and hummed soft, the first melody.
What a journey to be able to travel through time,
and watch as was writ, the first nursery rhyme.
though poets and writers, they do come and go,
still unto the cradle recite what we know.
My prayer for these pages is that you will find
a new love for living the path that unwinds.
my mind is the canvas, my heart is the pen,
so thus let our voyage together begin!
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