Heavenly Instrumental
My Dearest Father ... do You see me? I ask, God, because I do not, no longer do I appear to be my genuine self. When a child, teen and young adult, any routine was combined with novel, new adventures and wonders. Then, as an adult, all became regimen with only anxiety induced adrenaline and bothersome crumbs nudging my brain. Surely, I am no longer a human being but a human doing watching the same calendar spar for pieces of me while individual years diminish me. I know being omnipresent doesn't dwindle Your level of busy, in fact, more than ably, You keep each willing child company. Thus, I pray to Thee, stay awhile with me, an unwillingly lost child. With my eyes wide open and my words out loud spoken, I seek Your feel here, on this night, atop this hill lush with soft green fields as lit by the stars Your galaxy yields.
to find my lost self
i looked to my creator ~
he mapped my details
On earth’s floor, upon smooth grass, I lay me down, Father, and pray You play Your gospel bright purity, Your angelic chords of Father-love-security, and yes, please, Your instrumentals that softly comfort while peacefully rocking me. It is the lack of human-spun activities and nuisance noises that allow me the poise to absorb You here. Your awesome choir’s euphony-brim rushes brushed, musical tingles to mingle with my soul and fresh renew it. From your heavens, luminous sound waves flow that surround to inform and confirm the numinous ways You love me. My Dear Father, hearing my pleas, will You give my music needs over to Your night that they might waltz arm in arm with Your lullaby to then dance on high as twilight rapture music heals and soothes my cry with divinities repertoire?
heaven composed tunes
angelic instrumentals ~
god directs his band
Your twirly wind chimes deep within me as its hymn flirts upon my skin.
Your symphony of vague promise comes as wave notes again and again.
As a concerto I cannot harness, shadows volley tempo with Your moon,
clouds float an accompanying tune and instruments in Your orchestra
build a crescendo of exciting energy wherein my burdens float upon wonderous angels who hold them inside their primal notes. Could I, Father, but lay here amidst Your comforting music, safe from bruise and pain, I would gladly surrender all I am to be a hold note in the gold sky of Your spirit-scored refrain.
on grass under stars
no need to further seek me ~
gods notes know my skin
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