Saturday, January 14, 2012

These Feet ...

A poem that evolved from yesterday's ponderings.   This is a work in progress, as am I ...

"These Feet"

1    Walk, skip, run ...
  And when I'm lucky, dance with these feet  the Creator,
3    In His infinite wisdom unto me so gifted.
4    I will walk through this journey, my so-called life,
5    Joyful arms out-lifted on a glorious adventure unscripted. 
  Free-will  our inheritance enlisted,
7    These feet carry a warrior with a gentle heart,
8    Willfully serving His higher purpose.
9     His voice ever near and endlessly heeded,
10   I am an empty vessel waiting  to be filled ...
11   A burning spirit, sealed in fire, watching, waiting,
12   Listening, ready to be used as I am needed.
13   Renouncing Fear , these feet journey ever forward
14   Knowing full well moments there shall call
15   Where these feet shall scarcely find the will to crawl.
16   To my knees then will I swiftly fall, but even then
17   Fear will NOT rule:  my will remains immune to worldly strife.
18   Unyielding Faith in the Creator breathes me Life.
19   My spirit calls unto Him to fill up the
20   Empty wanting that in this darkness is me ...
21   In my Valley of Darkness safe from harm
22   The Creator will me keep.  With His Infinite Love
23   And Merciful Grace, He renews a weary me.
24   Therefore, I shall not with worldly tears weep. 
25   Fortifying my strength, opening eyes, mind, heart and soul:
26   He fills me up and makes me once again whole.
27   Thus renewed, these free-willed feet
28   Choose to resume His Divine Bidding.
29   Joyful steps these feet trace in the sands of a so-called life,
30   Mindfully infused with Heaven's Eternal Pace:
31   The Cosmic Beat set with Supreme Perfection
32   Unto Nature's Rhythmic Feet  ...
33   With Nature, I strive to be One.
34   So move these feet, ever forward in motion,
35   A glorious notion in aid to simple hands;
36   A paired will awaits:  there to do as He insights.

@Copyrighted Poem, 2012.  All Rights Reserved:  Isabelle Black Smith.

“It is the marriage of the soul with Nature that makes the intellect fruitful, and gives birth to imagination.” ~Henry David Thoreau

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