Poetry

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Walking through a path of fire and flames,
My heart filled with fear I could not tame.
Marks on my skin of heat and scorch,
I longed for a light, the faint of a torch.

With thoughts of despair clouding my vision,
I wished for a well of water for provision.
So overtaken my grief and doom,
my body would become ashes that no hand could loom.

There was no brother to the left,
no hidden heroes in the rock or the cleft.
No one heard my scream or my cry,
my flesh became as a bone, so dry.

Out of the smoke became visible two shoulders,
the closer I got, the fire felt colder.

I stood before Him refined as gold,
He stretched out His hand and this He told
" Didn't I tell you that as you pass through fire,
be bold, do not listen to the liar.
I go before you to prepare the way,
to lead you beside still waters and on green pastures to lay"

He walked with me, with the rod and the staff,
He didn't hand me over to the enemy to chaff.
We went through the narrow road all the way to glory,
just as He intended, He had written my story.

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