I hear You the most
Not with the beating of the drums
But in the stillness of the early morn as the birds chirp away
I sense You the most
Not in parades and concerts
But when lovers, mothers and fathers and children, and friends
Exchange I love you's and hugs
I feel You the most
Not when in flamboyant worship
But when witnessing someone help a fallen man get up
I know You the most
Not through dramatic sermons and lectures
But through tongue-tied, ineloquent stories
Of people who arrived at the truth
I see you the most
Not in grand, sparkly, glittery fireworks and celebrations
But in the mundane, raw, repetitive grind of existence.
No comments:
Post a Comment