HIS GENTLE WHISPERS

She sat in quiet wait
Listening to the bristles, soft whispers
Adoring nature while moaning within
Every song lost its symphony
Every beauty utterly destroyed
By one who was her beloved

Now when all’s gone
Her life all wrong
Nature offers her serenity
There in the clouds lies the beauty
The act of prayer she had forgone

There in the midst of ice
She could see his sunken eyes
Tearful but smiling in spite
She needed a spirit contrite
“Do not despair, it isn’t right”

Lifting her burdens an easy task
His help she’d never ask
Yet her spirit he could verily see
Her desire to be set free

The morale of my story is this
His voice may be only a hiss
But He offers the greatest bliss
He who created animals and trees
Holds man above the creepy seas