A Knocking at my Door

A pitter-pat, a lowly beat,

The gentle treading of my feet.

A feeling that only One can bring,

When comes the knocking of a King.

He seeks entrance to my soul,

A gentle warmth, a new-formed coal.

A meekly beam of brightest light, 

A yeilder of both truth and might,

He seeks for me, not I for him,

But have I strength to let him in?

I need to listen, need to feel.

Before the king I will kneel.

This light, my king, I will uphold.

Through my deeds I must be bold.

This light I hold on earth will pour,

When Christ, my King, knocks on my door.

Comments

Jay_M

This poem is great! I like your imagery.

kylie.e.arnold

Thank you. I just re-read it after almost a year and yeah. I'd say it isn't too bad.

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