My soul cried out, Lord, am I forgotten?
Your blessings, great Lord, fill my house.
Yet, there is something awry in my life,
But not material things I haven't gotten.
I search myself, sitting quietly as a mouse,
Praying, my soul in pain, pierced by a knife.
Tears escape my downcast blinded eyes,
Fleeing the tired face from whence they began.
My searching ends when finally it is known:
It is a simple thing, for which my soul cries.
God, I pray for a love these years to span.
My desire tugs as new cloth on old sewn.
It is my soul alone, which is lacking.
That which my heart most wants and desires
Perhaps, Father, him You have not made.
This is not a promise in which You’re slacking,
For patience is needed to quench the fires,
And so I clasped my hands and prayed.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 6:26pm on Nov 05, 2024 via server WEBX1.