Let me dip my quill into the Master’s colorful plan for you.
With golden ink, to erase the dark, He’ll make things new.
I hear music from Wisdom’s domain, where dreams revive.
Once I loved a man so completely, I was strengthened ‘alive.’
Your garden has luscious trees and some patches neatly kept.
Though, now, I know the parts of quicksand; this I’ll not forget.
My Designer comes prepared, with foundation corner stones, to fill.
Here am I, his faithful handmaiden, ready and willing to do His will.
Never was I the one to be afraid; or allow circumstances to sway.
It’s just that I died so horribly, the day you went away.
My Gardener, my Friend, will guide each step for your need.
I mustn’t draw-back now, because of horrors which cause to bleed.
This Butterfly flies-, but sometimes she’s His quill to enhance.
I’m not looking for myself, you know, nor for the average romance.
Father says two can heal; two, that is, whose hearts do care.
Golden words of destiny is formed, divine, with life beyond compare.