To My Old Friend

You who made this beautiful world

Colors vibrant and colors bold. 

Are you anything like the stories they told

In the days of old? 

In the days far past, 

Below seas of glass 

Or above the sky so blue?

 

Our elders told us, they told us so, 

They spoke of the wonders You do. 

Are You anything like the stories they told

In the days of old?

They say You built the mountains so high,

And the rocks themselves praise You as they cry,  

“Our words cannot describe You, even if we try!”

 

Could You not speak forth, mysterious force up above? 

Is Your witness only the truth of Your love? 

Are You anything like the stories they told

In the days of old?

I’ve heard that You twist fates; 

You bend destinies, 

And Your love for us conquers all hate.

 

I think of Your story;

What a bright tale it is!

To belong to a lover, to be only His.

The tale of a King exchanging His glory for a stable 

So that to love Him, anyone would be able.

 

What is this feeling

Of high understanding, 

Yet feeling so truly confused?

Would it be enough to thank You 

For the breath in my lungs?

The sight in my eyes 

And the words on my tongue? 

 

It could never be enough to describe the glory,

The goodness, the kindness— 

I feel my best is truly abhorring, 

Compared to the grace with which I am blessed.

So if You can hear me, O Spirit so great,

I guess the best I can do is thank You,

And would You forgive me for being so late?

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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