Divine Instrument of the Soul
In the silence, I feel it stir, a spark within my fingertips
a gentle nudging, a whispered promise, to bring forth the unseen
the hand, a vessel, a sacred tool, a bridge between the heart and mind
a God-given gift, to shape and mold, the whispers of the divine
With every stroke, a world unfolds, a tapestry of emotions, thoughts, and dreams
the hand dances, a faithful servant, to the rhythm of the heart's deep themes
it weaves a narrative, a poetic spell, that transcends the mundane and the real
a symphony of words, a harmony of soul, that echoes through the chambers of the heart
In the stillness, I hear the voice, a gentle guiding, a loving nudge
a reminder that the true poet, is the one who whispers in my ear, and stirs my soul
God, the master weaver, guiding my hand, heart, and mind
to craft a tale, that speaks of love, of hope, of life, and all its complexities entwined
The mind, a canvas, a kaleidoscope, of colors, textures, and hues
a realm of imagination, where the heart's deepest secrets, and desires, break through
the hand, a brush, that paints the scene, with strokes of passion, and devotion true
a dance of creativity, a waltz of words, that whispers secrets, only known to few
In this sacred trinity, of hand, heart, and mind, I find my voice, my song, my prayer
a poetic pilgrimage, guided by the divine, to craft a tale, that speaks of love, and all its beauty rare
for in the silence, I hear the voice, that whispers truth, and sets my soul on fire
and with each word, a world is born, a world that beats, with the rhythm of the heart's deepest desire
Copyright ©
David Hurlburt
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