voices in the dark,
calling, crying,
condemning.
"Why do you even try?"
"You know you don't really want this."
"If you did, things would be different."
"You'd be doing something"
"Wouldn't you?"
The enemy's barrage of barbed arrows
piercing, rending,
aimed at the sorest of spots,
the ones that have bled
many times before.
"He doesn't even really care about you."
"They don't even know you, do they."
"If they did, they would understand."
"Things would be different."
Thousands of voices,
screaming, taunting
echoing, mocking
piercing through my heart.
but through them all
a Voice is heard
quiet, but steady
calm, but firm.
"you are My child,"
"and I love you."
"I made you"
"with great thought and care"
"you are mine"
"and mine alone."
"why would you want anything different?"
Words of Love,
the Voice of Love,
cleansing water over wounds,
igniting fire in my heart.
the Face of Perfect Love,
casting out all fear
strengthening my hands to work,
strengthening my hands to work,
my feet to move.
my eyes fixed upon
this Brilliant Love,
all else fades before
the brilliant glory.
My mind and heart
now echoing
with a simple yet beautiful truth:
I am His, and He is mine,
and I wouldn't ask for anything different.
