To sleep when night still held the sky,
And wake with the first light of the dawn
Is a blessing that I take for granted
Why is it that I call myself hopeless
When he who molded me was with purpose.
Not to wither away under the cascade of darkness
But to bloom like a dandelion in the spring
Not live by our flesh, but by his word
This life, of mine and yours is not ours entirely
But is a gift like how he’s a gift to humanity.
He’s the one who take ownership, our creator
So why is it that I am crying, feeling like my story is finished.
When he’s not done writing it.
Why is it that I would be honored,
like Mary to be at his foot and anoint him with oil.
And still afraid to be anointed by the Holy Spirit
to wait upon my calling.
I am grounded by the salt of the earth,
And the light of the world,
Serenity of the mountains
The loud crashing of the seas
The waves that speak of a mystery
Which we take pride to think we know
But greater than all we could see or know
It’s him, the transcendent
Who moves through the mountains, sea and stars
The one who hears even the distant cry of the birds
With Abba 