Deep yet delicate, pulsating my soul,
Touching the unreachable parts of me,
Killing me softly, even when music is absent;
He speaks truth, empowering the lowliest of spirit,
Enlightening the seekers, strengthening faith;
He speaks of pain, a parcel covered with red tiny hearts;
He speaks life, awakening the creative spirit within me,
Reminding me of simpler days, and easier ways,
Of river baths and waiting by standpipes for jug filling,
Of sand bathing and rope skipping and puppy rescuing;
He speaks love, tugging at my heart strings,
Igniting the insatiable fire within my soul,
Burning hate and enmity to total consumption,
Creating hope after the storm, releasing doubts;
He speaks peace, like the gentle breeze and waves on the sea shore,
Of clear horizons and golden sunsets,
Glistening against the ocean ripples and welcoming a new day;
He speaks joy, genuine and pure, triggered by the tiny things,
With random outbursts of excitement at cheeky smiles and warm embraces;
He speaks freedom, to choose among the roses and thorns,
To run through and pick each flower in the garden,
To share one, to understand that once picked,
It would eventually wither away,
To believe that growth comes from rainy days,
And bush fires worsen with sunshine,
To believe, to trust, to love, to be;
He speaks forgiveness, healing the heart of the giver,
Quenching the given's soul,
Mending broken, feeble lives,
Mirroring the mercy of Christ and beginning new chapters;
He speaks wisdom, imparting knowledge, lighting dark paths,
Transplanting new eyes for fresh discernment.
His voice is ever clear, ever gentle, soothing, encouraging,
I listen, I live.
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