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Poem

The battles forged in numbers, the giants multiplied,
As back in the day with David, a rock and a song was his battle cry,
The distractions overwhelming and endless, negativity poured over the land,
And so all he could do was write from his heart, holding a rock and a pen in his hand,
This is how he communicated, this was where he heard my voice,
There were so many words thrown from every side, but this was how he remained on course,
He got into the quiet to hear me, and wrote down every word,
This was how he became focused to hear me, and held onto everything he heard,
He spoke and wrote his heart into existence, while the whole world screamed in his ear,
But I set him apart and separated his heart so my words became more clear,
They called him the psalmist for a reason, these were not just songs, it was worship and prayer,
And every time the world tried to fill his mind, in his song I met him there.

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