Poetry

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I feel the fists of Satan
   pounding around my place.
In my heart I hear him prating
   but not too near my face.

I have fed from Goodness' lot,
   content with my fill.
I'm provoked to praise my God,
   I'm given my Father's will.

Through the filter of Your will
   I get what comes my way.
It's only when I'm being still
   I hear what You say.

My mind has been on my prayers,
   my prayers are in the Word.
In my fears I know He cares,
   all I've said is heard.

I have walked, I have flown,
   I have faltered in this dance.
In His love I believe I've grown,
   just a little in this stance.

Through the filter of Your will
   I will gain Your way.
As long as I'm being still
   I can have what You say.

Through the filter of Your will
   I'll fly home Your way.
In Your arms I'll be still
   recalling what You now say.

© 2-23-2011

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