His overwhelming arms, they hold me
As the world reels in despair
And mixes its palate with
Varying degrees of despondency.
The Lord is my shelter
I heard that today
And my heart crawls out from under a stone
Embracing the conception of newness
Surrounded by crumbling towers of normalcy
We cling to those which fate
Has abandoned, and seek our heart’s content
Absent from the news
Reflecting voices down the long hallway
Nearer to the screen, they cry out for
Something else
If serenity witnesses the furor, let her speed
Quickly, as a flame
He is not absent in this time
The Love above all loves
collects the pieces of glass and fragments
Of concrete
Framing them into tears, which fall
Collected by the seraphim
Come quickly, Lord, to this wretched world
Whose foundations have drifted onto sand
As the crafted tendrils of our lives wrap
Themselves around.
You are neither absent nor silent,
Crafting the yearning of our hearts