God of grace and forgiveness,
I seek your will;
With your love and mercy
May I be filled.
Your ways are ever higher,
Your mercies run sweet and deep.
Your love is an illuminating fire
Refining every part of me.
My mind cannot grasp
The grandeur of your majesty;
You overwhelm me with your love
Which lasts forever unto eternity.
Lead me, oh God,
In your ever perfect way.
To be always near you,
Oh Lord, is what I pray.
May everything I say and do
Be truly as if unto you.
The clouds hang in cold suspension over the landscape, their hazy palour seeping into the mountains and rooftops, painting the scene a dull grey. Some birds call out to each other in questioning intervals while the tap-tap-tapping of the rain hastens into a conversation of its own.
I lose consciousness of the low electrical rumble of the fridge in my apartment as I seep into the landscape and the twittering and the tap-tap-tapping.
The birds are calling, chatting more confidently now – they are not deterred by sombre airs. A turtledove contentedly announces his position on the neighbour’s roof to anyone listening.
There’s a soft and earnest beauty in the greyness, isn’t there? A longing, a kind of breath-held stillness that is let out in a long, gentle sigh. It leads us to reach out for comfort – I pour mine into a well-endeared cup. My hands embrace its warm body as I bring the steaming comfort to my lips. And the grey afternoon itself becomes a little warmer.
A melody on golden strings,
drawn out beautifully.
I know, though, that it’s not meant
I close my eyes
to let it,
if only for a moment.
The curtain rustles in the nightwind,
A hazy white banner in the dark,
Signalling my approaching surrender.
My heart flutters.
Resolves have always been made,
In the night.
But morning brings with it
Heavyhearted gravity pins me to my seat
As I watch the tilting world below me;
A swirling swell of
And one of them is you.
Shooting through the blinding white
-Into blue suspension-
My stomach stayed behind
Somewhere on the ground,
Where I let go of you.
I think you know;
I’m not coming back.