The force of the wind
The beauty of all that moves around me
Nothing more than a minute part of creation,
Yet I have been made into a plan
A swamp reed as I am, weak in the foundation;
Swaying in every direction any being or force pushes me in.
Waving hopelessly again in the forces of this world,
I wonder of my part, in this plan.
Birds, they are strong and are certain of their route
Pushing through gusts of winds and currents of rain and snow,
Guided by an inner sense of assurance and confidence,
Knowing this is where they are needed.
Looking down they see their observers watching them in awe
And in appreciation of their beauty and grace;
at times leaning on me for rest and comfort, I feel important.
But at the same time incompetent and hopeless at being worthy.
Easily swayed and convinced of anything, I changed my shape and place
As the seasons change and the winds change direction, I cannot keep up
With why I do the things I do just to go through the motions of the life
I am supposed to lead, a life still void of a strong goal and purpose.
A life still void of a goal, lacking commitment, my seeds fly into the wind.
Gliding, they do not know where to land and take root, passion is weakening.
Seeds of love are too many to grow, they die, taken by the quick current
And strangled by the slow freezing of the disappointed heart, efforts going nowhere.
I, this swaying reed rooted in sinking mud and blown in circles by winds of change and influence
God’s love stands strong forever. Seeds are plentiful, faith is all that is needed to make them grow.
A plan is to take form, purity will flow from the roots of this swamp reed. Purity lacking elsewhere.