A voiceless question nags.
Tugging at my thoughts, it does.
Can I ev'n put words to its form?
The process inside, it lags.
All I can produce is this buzz
Of overhead lights, the norm;
Of quiet noise that gags.
But soft, it now comes.
Do listen and see its form.
How, yes, how is it I look,
Yea, seek Your voice,
And hear not a sound?
I search throughout Your Book
To find reason to rejoice
Yet find nothing in leather-bound.
What I see, when I look
Are pictures of my soul, by choice
A fake, a fraud, hell-bound.
I see and hate the one I have become.
And as I turn to the Holy Light
I begin to feel, not hear
A soft whisper that does come
Like soft feathers just in flight
To me with Good News to bear.
At once, yet slow and soft,
I feel covered and loved
Despite my horrid soul.
Your whisper has my soul aloft.
For once I feel beloved
Instead of crushed beneath sins' sole.
Whisper to me Your love
That I may feel it in my soul
For my ears cannot be trusted.
I know tis You that speaks
The peace within, for if not
T'would not be a whisper.
YOU ARE READING
Out from the Darkness
PoetryA collection of poems written with the goal to praise the God who created us all.
