Sadness

Alarm

Guilt

The day's first rays peek over the horizon

Soon the trees won't be able to hide the orb's scorching missiles.

Autumn in Mississippi.

Yet,  I can't enjoy the coolness, the stillness, the beauty, the waiting

For God to speak.

The other voices, the ones inside me, clamor too much for attention --

Reminding me of all I have not done and all I need to do, including write this poem.

For time, they tell me, is racing by at a shocking rate

And there is so much to accomplish.

Restless,

My heart beats faster, I am slightly panicked.

I have asked God in the past why He will not give me a steady supply of that peace that comes sometimes, 

The peace that none of those voices can reach.

That renders them mute and helpless, that obliterates them.

All is lost except the KNOWING that all is well, all is well, and all manner of things are well.

No longer do I beg God. I know that the peace-- God--  resides right next to the voices-- within me.

It is always ready for access, if I choose.

But I must be quiet and enter His world.

It is a mystery.

I will feel better having written this, having DONE something.

But it would be better had I done nothing.....and found that elusive peace.

Found God, in me.

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The Prophet

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God’s Measure