BREATH
Through gardens breathed, His being flows,
in images His shining grows,
through tenderness of thought He glides,
in arms where all my soul resides.
In thousand hands with Him I ride,
the finest weight of touch as guide,
of truth unseen. From dreamless skies
a moment sounds, yet never dies.
With peaceful will His rest is found,
faith laid on heart without a sound.
Unknown, yet welcomed; with His eyes
we look from pain where mercy lies.
A whisper loud as thunder breaks
the silent depth no storm awakes;
with stillest calm through blood He streams—
Unbounded.
Pure.
Now.
…only mine.
Author: Veron
