I saw the lofty clouds,
Like mountains piled high.
I wondered if the angels,
Or God, were dancing there.
And then the thunder rolled,
A wave of sound; God speaking there.
I saw the real mountains,
The jagged cliffs, with snow adrift,
Their fearsome heights created
By a holy God — And who can tell
If He does not there dwell?
But He’s not bound by earth or sky;
Perhaps He’s in a lullaby,
Or in a spouse’s kiss; He’s ne’er amiss.
To know His love is awe and bliss.
On first sight,
Like little children,
With eyes agog and mouths agape —
Paralyzed in awe and wonder
Or crying,
Strangely still,
Feeling humble
Ancient, ancient rocks
Tell God’s secrets
In silence
There’s a reason for your suffering,
A purpose for your pain.
God’s forging new beginnings;
Your hurt is not in vain.
You may be in confusion,
Be tempted by despair,
But if you’ll keep on trusting,
No comfort can compare.
Your life is God’s creation;
His plan, it has no flaw.
And when His work is over,
You’ll stand in humble awe.
Remember you are clay now,
Or liquid metal made.
Each person finely crafted,
A creature now remade.
Black butterfly
On angel’s wings.
A brown and common
Bird that sings.
A blade of grass
That no one sees.
A quiet child,
A bright sunbeam.
They pass her by —
Nothing unusual.
She sits and sighs —
It’s life as usual.
clarakatalin 