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Rated: E · Poetry · Religious · #1269890
poem about finding His grace
Sometimes when I get still...
and all that I hear is the space
around me...
and sometimes when my heartbeat pounds
in my ears,
drowning the noise,
swallowing my busyness,
I hear it...
The sound of wooing,
the whisper of Promise,
"Come, wait for me, love.
Forget tomorrow.
Abandon the past.
I am here. I am now.
I am peace...
Come, bring your gifts.
Lay them at the altar
where forgiveness is necessary,
when brokenness is mandatory,
when your silence is best.
Bask in my glory.
Dive into my mercy.
Receive my grace.
It is free."
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1269890-It-is-Free