Poetry

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In waiting,
  I never have to wait for You,
      You always seem to come.
As the slow cooker of my soul,
  You simmer in my spirit.

You are so very quiet about Yourself,
  yet so loud through my Subject.
You’re a gentle Spirit,
  a quiet Lord.

You never seek attention for Yourself.

You are my Nameless Wonder,
  my timeless Treasure,
      the Source of my breath,
        my everlasting Cup of water,
            and my Velvet Hammer.
You’re the Arrow of heaven,
  pointing to the Son, who,
      points to the Father.
With Them, You are
  the Author of Truth and Faith.

Even now, those who read this
  witness You enflaming my words.

I have inscribed with You,
  yet I have barely written about You.
      Still, You never complain.

Even then, I sense Your joy
  in being with me.
      writing with me.

Bless me, and be blessed
  over this pathetic tribute of rhetoric.
It is all I have,
  and I only have by Your will.

You are all my life.

© 3-26-10

John 14:15-18; 26; 16:13-15

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