Time together used to be golden but has since faded to a tarnish. Neglect has let the dust settle, hiding the beauty of what had been. Empty talk and promises do nothing to restore the shine. Will this friendship see its splendor once again? I don't know, but it takes two to make a pair. This endeavor takes equal effort: tipped scales do not a balance make. Nor does a dry gas tank see the journey to its end. Likewise, a few gallons will see the journey cut short when the tank runs out. The question is Will you fill the tank before the journey is no longer there to take? Do you remember it? That friendship, sitting there as it gathers dust? Will you let it fade away? Or will it see the light of day?
Weird waters we are wading now, worries thick and fast. Will the current wash us by? Would footing stay at last? When will we stand upon the shore? Where is the solid ground? Winds of change, you stir us up, why muddle answers we have found? We wonder if the river narrows, wonder when it calms. When worldly wisdom meets its end we look then to the Psalms. With waters deep and waters cold we call upon the Lord. Weird waters wash around us, but HE is our Eternal Shore.
You are beautiful, like the morning light in a little girl's eyes. Your joy at life bubbling up, infecting those around you with its warm golden light, eradicating any trace of gloom. Your laugh is melodious, harmonizing with every good thing in the world. A sonnet couldn't do you justice, nor could Shakespeare himself capture your radiance. You are cut from a cloth whose artistry is unfathomable, and your love and faith do well to show the glory of your Maker. Yes you are beautiful, but the mere word is but a frail shadow of that which no tongue can describe.
A deeper color, a flash of rosy shading. The feeling of choked words as emotion rises up--raw, and fierce, and beautiful. The feeling so powerful that the body knows not what to do. Tears run down her cheeks, but they do not match the feeling inside. The feeling is joy, so immense, that it threatens to stop the flow of breathing and the heart yearns to break free of its cage of bone. These are the happy tears.
A small little place is where I grew up, with a few close friends at my side. And on summer nights we'd walk the town, and watch the stars spread wide. So numerous and beautiful, my soul was filled with awe. We friends sung praise to the Maker of it all. But then I moved to the city, and my stars were hidden from my sight. At first I lamented, seeing this only as a plight. The sky no longer had its familiar shine, and it felt like I had left my heart at home. But as time went on, and the nights did pass, my heart began to roam. so then came the time that I moved to a new small place, and the stars shone brilliant once more. And as I sat there under those stars, I noticed something I hadn't before. The stars were more numerous than I could remember. But as I tried to take solace in those stars, they were as cold to me as a silent December. I thought "Why? How can this be?" And as I sat there thinking, the answer came to me. I had no need to seek solace in the stars now. In the city, my stars weren't in the sky, but around me--that's how.
Outside my window, the storm rages on. Lightning flashes, thunder cracks. Rain pours out onto everything it can Soaking it, filling the world with gray.
Inside my heart, a storm rages too. Flashes of anger, roaring frustrations. Tears fall down and flood the eyes Blinding me, filling my soul with gray.
Turmoil and tension, complete unrest. Fears rising, the cries unkept. Darkness surrounding and invading Closing in, filling it with gray.
So dark, so cold, shrouded in gloom my heart aches, it cries for light Where went all the happy times? Mourning now, I'm filled with gray.
No end in sight, so sign of light no breath of day, just endless night. But Time and God can end the storm Breaking free, filling skies with day.
The weight is lifting, peace is returning hope is shining, my heart yearning Suddenly there is a light Shining forth, filling me with day.
The storm is over, the gray is gone. Colors richer, life fuller. A time for healing this dry ground Renewing it, filling it with day.
The soul is fresh, renewed once more burdens emptied, joys again After tension comes great release Peace reigns, I'm filled with day.
Trees painted red for the blood they cannot shed. They die just the same, but do they feel pain? Does the forest cry out as its members fall down? Or was there no voice as they fell to the ground? The trees do not speak but they still utter sound. They creak and they moan, and they sway all around. The wind rustles their leaves, the sound tickles our ears. It leaves lasting impressions, some laughter, some tears.
