Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Glory Sasikala writes


As I lie down on the grass,
And the scented breeze goes on its spree,
As I doze amidst these flowers,
Who is it whispers to me?

As I, on this noon day tide,
Seek the cool shade of a tree,
In this stillness far and wide,
Who is it whispers to me?

Far away in the deep blue sky
The white puffs travel all so free,
And I lie and close my eyes,
Yet who is it whispers to me?

Then on a moonlit night so bright, 
Softly lighting on the lee,
Gently mocking my daily fight,
Who is it whispers to me?

I shut my eyes and ears so tight
And then I think that I am free,
Yet He who loves me day and night,
He it is whispers to me.

When too busy to stop and think, 
When I from my tasks do shirk and shrink,
Dear God, give me that I hear your voice
Amidst this world's chaotic noise.

That I, amidst my troubles do always find 
A comforting anchor within my mind,
And always guided to eternal peace
By the soft, whispering breeze.

Two Men Contemplating the Moon -- Caspar David Friedrich

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