Three weeks becomes three years: delaying because of fears.
I hear your voice: I am slow to start; lost in love; not torn apart.
Son of Jonah! I go astray: but still; you knead me in the way.
Coordinator of the path: a fool they see; what a laugh!
Know your glory; show your face; in intimate spaces; beyond disgrace.
Blinded: seeing many things; of your goodness, can we sing...
Of living kindness, mercy, and grace; of the beauty and strength, of your embrace.
Spread your wings, so we can hide, until the day, you call your bride.
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Author:
Valiantstar (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 6th, 2026 07:25
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 40
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, ms.divine
Offline)
Comments6
Beautiful. Powerful work.
That's his job!
Good write
Valiantstar, this carries such a searching, devotional energy…hesitation, longing, mercy, and trust all moving together. Beautifully heartfelt, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Good write Jonah. lol.
Yes, until that changing of the tide.
Cool
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