God is a spirit
Who speaks to those who refrain.
When the soul weeps,
He leans in to listen
And speaks salves to our wound.
But those who learn to quiet the World
Will mistake their own voices for Its words
When it’s a song about quiet
A poem without words
A dance in the rain when the rain is hail
It’s Advil without a candied shell.
And if you could tell the difference
Between remedies and poisons;
Took the pill, though it be bitter
The swelling in your sinuses might recede
And you’d begin to think clearly again
We could sit at the same table again
Exchanging flowers for a nice, quiet evening.
From the Author
I spend a lot of my thought life thinking about the nature in which God speaks. My suspicion and experience is that He indeed does. My suspicion and experience is also that God’s voice isn’t the only one banging around in man’s cranium.
This is a poem about misidentified voices.
Sorry about missing my normal Friday schedule, everyone! I’ve been working on a few projects and it just blew past me. Although, I am happy to report that the result of these distractions are a custom computer and an office to work in unimpeded!
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