O Morning Star,
You who fell from heaven
to take on flu and scars and walk
within weather and time and disappointment,
illuminate this frigid Dark that consumes my blighted soul,
that I might be released into my Destiny, to relay Your reflection as
moon to your sun, declaring brilliance in my lineage, decorating Your tree.
Senses collect the data,
process and sort,
conclude that Christmas is coming.
But senses can be sidetracked,
deceived,
led down a snowy garden path.
Heart and mind collect Promises,
data for the spirit,
process and sort,
conclude that Spring
is but a breath away.
*
For a devotional on this topic, visit Growing With God in my Garden
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 