faith flickers like a tired bulb,
prayer hums, a wire stretched taut.
hands move, reaching for the switch,
but the room stays dark, hollow.
service is the hand that grips,
the unseen surge humming, alive.
a connection sparking beneath skin,
current steady, sent through miles.
without action, there's no lightning,
no warmth crackling in the veins.
movements of purpose ignite glow,
a flood of light, purposeful folly.
God watches, a silent powerhouse,
waiting for hands to close gaps,
to let loose the energy buzzing,
to press the switch that saves.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: October 13th, 2025 03:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
Offline)
Comments2
A great metaphor here Gray. The connection made by the action of closing the switch. As you began I first had visions of an electric chair and what a shocking experience, jolted into another life. Nicely done
Well done, my friend.
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