The Holder of Your Pen

Keyboard strikes… tap tap tap

Delete Delete Delete… tap tap tap.

Like raindrops hitting the cement… tap tap tap

The words of human frailty fall to the ground.  

Can You hear what I’m thinking?

A dozen questions flood my mind

Of what to ask you.  Am I listening clearly?

Normal and predictable verse I do not want.

I don’t want to write anything without you being the author.

I feel an aching to write.  It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch.

The depth, the emotion, the clever use of words,

Illustrations of immense beauty, metaphors that wax lyrical.

I do not want human rhyme or method.

I just want YOU.  Your words.  Your truth. 

Fill me.  Give me words for abstract thought.

You are so intentional and perfect with your words.

You know what people need to hear. 

You know how to fill the voids. 

When you speak, colours of perfect hue paint

New visions in my heart.  The perfect landscapes form.

And it’s just me in Your creation, Your space, Your presence.

I want to dive Your depths and tread water in landless seas.

I want to walk on peaks of majestic mountains and

Sit on the precipice of eternity with You. 

You are everything and whole.  How do I even begin to use words to describe?

How do I cause the pen to move?  You are so much more than words. 

The enormity, the complete excavation of me.

Take all the worthless and childish vocabulary from me.

Take predictable rhyme and turn it on its head.

You are the master creator.  There is no author like you.

You break all the rules and make people question standards,

You create new notes on the scale and sing unsung melodies.

Everything is new and unique with You.

You are my new season.  You are my purpose.

I am the holder of your pen. 

Here I am.