He came to me today.  There was no sound.  Like He was already there.

There was no movement save for the opening of my eyes.  The still small voice.  “Sometimes when your eyes are closed, you hear only you”.

 

Today the wind is my instrument.  Our gaze will meet in the movement of my creation.

 

The poem is in the trees.  The leaves touched by their friend, the wind.  The song on the glittering water hides the mysteries in its depths.

A leaf bounces across the tips of the grass, swept along.  No control of its path to an unseen destination.  The journey is a gentle taunting, imitating my life.  Sometimes.  I’ve learned to find trust at the end of sometimes.

He came today to push me out into the deeper water. It was more like a nudge.  The deeper water I’ve learned is where I learn.  I turned to look in the direction of the nudge.  On either side of Him, like sentries in each hand, were the oars.

“You won’t need these”, He laughed.                                                                Just trust.

Today the drifting is peaceful, the surface calm.  The wind but a breath across my cocoon.  But what of the days when the deep water gets angry?

With the silence unpierced, the so still, small voice brushed my drum.  Unmistakable.    “Ask Peter”.

He came to me today.  There was no sound.  Like He was already there.