Painting the Wind Too
Try for the impossible,
never know what you'll see,
patiently He paints the wind,
knowing it'll set us free.
Don't know how, don't know why,
day after day I still try;
someday I hope too,
you'll see He paints for you.
With brushes and paints,
ready for the test,
waiting here hoping,
in Him I find rest.
Here in this place with wind below,
wind above,
a tear on my cheek,
on the wind - a dove.
She uses a different brush,
an extension of herself,
floating and flying,
beautifully expressing self.
To be like her, to be with her,
one with the air,
her wings are back,
blowing back is her hair.
Off seeking a new place,
home is where she lands,
tonight her friend'll be,
me - extending hands.
Far away she is,
I - still here,
no more wondering,
nor do I fear.
Wanting and wishing,
a brush and a stroke,
stirring emotion,
best of all - hope.
Allow me now,
to express my mind,
safe in His arms,
painting what I find.
©2006 Randolph D. Brown Jr.
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