Saturday, January 22, 2011
How much of God we tend to miss
If we are immune to heaven’s kiss
Blind to the shadow of His hand
Moving across sky, sea and land
Have you seen it?
His hand behind the pale ring of the new moon
Have you heard it?
Beneath a frozen brook, hope’s muffled tune
Have you felt it?
Wonder stirring as you gaze upon a fragile rose
Have you tasted it?
The keen wind weeping salty tears as it dips and flows
Have you wept it?
As you see the naked corpse of summer silently lie
Have you walked it?
The road of tear-worn memories ‘neath a painted sky
Have you been mesmerized by a Presence in the thread of dawn?
Have you been taken by the whisper of a small cloud, far-blown?
Have you paused mid-step, completely spell-bound
By a miracle sprouting from the sun-parched ground
Have you been comforted by the tender murmur
Of rain softly falling in a midnight summer
Do we move like mummies wrapped up in life’s shroud?
Oblivious to love screaming from the silent cloud
Oh, how much of Him we tend to miss
If we are numb to heaven’s kiss