Hidden away from view,
Quietly you grow.
So intricately made,
Before you even show.
What wonderful designs,
Your Father has in mind.
The size of just a lime,
You are one of a kind.
Sweet baby know your loved,
In heaven and on earth,
We’re counting down the days,
To meet you at your birth.
Your in the wind,
the flame, the light.
Holy Spirit,
Our souls ignite.
Set us ablaze,
With your own love,
Decend on us,
O Holy Dove.
More than ever,
We choose anew.
In these dark times,
To trust in you.
O living hope,
True source of peace,
You show us that,
Love does not cease.
Raised from the tomb,
We came to see;
The power of,
Your victory.
O Perfect Love,
Burn in our heart,
That we may never,
Drift apart.
Will we come to the sacred Cross,
And kneel at Mary’s side?
To contemplate this gruesome loss,
Our Savior who has died.
In silence do we bear the pain,
Submit to greater love?
To know the Lamb who has been slain,
Was sent from heavn’ above.
With eyes like Mary, let us see,
That light and hope remain.
His body hung upon the tree,
Will come to life again.
Adapted from original post on December 2, 2016
Fingers move from bead to bead,
Prayers like incense rise.
Mother Mary hear our prayer,
Listen to our sighs.
Implore your Son to hear us,
Comfort and provide.
For you will not forsake us,
True and faithful guide.
Teach us to trust in Jesus,
Just as you have done.
Fix our eyes upon on the Cross
Where victory was won.
Lord love me where,
The others can’t.
Heart of mercy,
I ask you grant.
For you alone,
Can satisfy,
Your presence Lord,
Relieves our cry.
Lord love me where,
The others can’t.
It seems as though,
Friends come and go.
Like passing ships,
On different trips.
One moving east,
The other west.
Time together,
Not forever.
It seems as though,
Friends come and go.
Humble baby,
Precious Savior.
Love was given,
Straight from heaven.
Emmanuel,
God is with us.
We adore Thee,
Thou art Holy.
See the Christ child,
In the stable.
Worthy of praise,
For all our days.
It’s wise not to judge,
What we see from another,
Their faults and their flaws,
Perhaps merely a cover.
Of crosses they bear,
Heavy burdens that they hold,
Things they can’t control,
Many stories left untold.
May our hearts grow soft,
As we look at each other,
Showing tenderness,
In the lives of our brother.
Photo by Jonathan Borba on Pexels.com
Writing is fickle,
with thoughts here and there.
So much to say now,
But lacking the how.
Write for the people,
Or write for yourself?
Say something clever,
Give up for ever?
Mind of a writer,
so vast and so wide.
Stop thinking so hard,
and let down your guard…
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
