Wednesday, September 27

In His Hands Are Kept


In rare moments of honesty
I find my true self standing still
In a wide empty open room
Hoping and waiting earnestly

I pace around that empty room
Looking and probing here and there
Searching for what I do not know
Wanting to sate a growing gloom

After sufficient time has passed
The things I wanted are revealed
So perfect in their craftsmanship
Their beauty will forever last

This is the gift for those who wait
Who trust in Him to gently keep
The things which we commit to Him
Who controls the very hands of Fate


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