Fruits of the Spirit

Joy is not always loud or bright,  

sometimes it’s the quiet hum,  

the tender pulse of contentment,  

a secret sunlight in your chest.  

Love arrives like an overflowing river,  

reshaping its edges with care,  

carving purpose into barren ground,  

turning jagged rocks into whispers.  

Kindness wears the softest shoes,  

its footsteps barely audible,  

yet leaves behind a trail,  

a map to something better.  

Peace doesn’t burst through doors,  

it lingers like a deep exhale,  

settling into your bones gently,  

an anchor on restless waters.  

Patience waits without tapping its foot.  

It is a held breath,  

an unbroken gaze,  

a steady stretch of dawn.  

Goodness stands tall and quiet,  

the kind of light that warms,  

but never burns, radiant still,  

even when unnoticed.  

Self-control is pulling back the bow,  

trusting the arrow to listen,  

believing restraint can gift clarity,  

a calm precision through chaos.  

Faithfulness holds your hand,  

its grip steady as the tide—  

always returning, always faithful,  

even when you close your eyes.