Still

I'm a wretched poet (my lyrical Dragon-Muse, Dravaena, has her work cut out for her). Usually, when I write poems, they're in the forms of song lyrics. I'm just not creative to make anything sound good unless it rhymes. Even then, it usually doesn't sound good. And even if it does...years could go by before I come up with some decent music (you know, using the 10 or so guitar chords I know) to put to the words.

But sometimes some lyrics find me, and I know that these lyrics are going to have to have music to them someday. This happened to me yesterday. I was writing a poem...but it wasn't quite right yet. I got really drowsy. I fell asleep. I had a vision.

An actual vision.

It's not the first time it's happened to me. It's been the first time it's happened in a long while. It wasn't even anything clear, but something happened.

It wasn't words. It wasn't even images. It was just a knowledge--a knowledge that something's about to happen. I don't even know what it is, but I have a few ideas. The thing is, it doesn't matter what's going to happen. Now's the time to wait for whatever it is, and there's beauty in waiting. There's beauty in the expectation and anticipation. If I didn't have to wait and get excited about Christmas, it wouldn't be as wonderful when it finally came. Right now, God is calling me to wait expectantly for what He has for me.

And since I've only got a handful of readers anyway, I figured I might as well share the lyrics that came to me yesterday. Because when I woke up from that dream-vision, I was able to finish it.



Still

The Wind is still.
The sky is white with cloud,
But the sun breaks through.
Gold streams down from heaven.
Kissing the earth with dreams
That have already come true.

...but I still have a few dreams left to dream...

And I lift up my head
And I look towards the sun
And sparrows soar like eagles
And You watch every one.

My heart beats inside my chest
Rattling these world-weary bones,
And I long for the Wind to stir in me--
I yearn for it to rage and blow.
Yet my eyes are too weak to see,
And my heart is too frail to know.
Still I lift up my head.
The Wind is still.

And even in the smallest stirrings
I can't feel Wind on my face.
It doesn't scatter through my hair.
But the trees dance so gently
With anticipation and with joy,
For they know You're there.

...and You're the One who's leading...

And I lift up my head
And I feel for that breeze
And though I'm not moving,
I am dancing with the trees.

My heart pounds inside my chest
Rattling these world-weary bones.
And I long for the Wind to stir in me--
I yearn for it to rage and blow.
Yet my eyes are too weak to see,
And my heart is too frail to know.
Still I lift up my head.

All creation is silent
In the calm before the storm.
All creation is expectant
To see what lies in store.
And I know You're going to move in me
Stronger than ever before
Though the Wind is still.

The Wind is still.

I lift up my head.
I lift up my eyes.
I wait for You.
The Wind is still.