Saturday, 15 March 2014



John 3:8, The wind blows wherever it please. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.

From above comes the breeze,
That captures the heart,
And the eyes,
Drawing back the focus to the hyper - real.
Revised intentions, shaped by cascading shards of light,
Reflecting on the lens, tinged by flare,
This new vision, from above,
Breaks before dawn awakes,
And leads the wanderer further,
Further than they thought they’d ever go,
This breeze carries with it hope and heartfelt praises,
For within the shadows cast by the collateral it carries,
Are etchings of new life,
Scrawled on to pavements,
Sewn into the fabric of lives encountered,
Life enriched and enriching,
And from above this ghostly breath sweeps away,
Tears, worries,
Failures and fears,
And plants deep into passersby,
Seeds of change,
New roots to be formed in concrete walls,
Previously shut off to fresh light,
And as with the wild goose,
The wind sweeps and soars,
Clattering left and back and right and forth,
The path it follows is the creator’s cause,
And it moves ever onward,
This wind,
This trail of hope and life,
And to us is given the task,
Of following in its wake,
Reaching after the leaves that flutter,
In the glare of this comet’s tail.

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