The Real

 

Real

 

Oh, tired soul.

I feel you within me.

Weary.

 Feeling the weight of this physical garment.

Of its fears.

And tears.

And woe.

Wishing.

So very much.

To be made whole.

Oh the weary weight I feel.

Of yearning to find the link between.

Spiritual, and material things.

So that I may sing in tune.

Within the realms of heaven’s peaceful afternoons.

To feel you always as I walk within the world.

And see you ever as my Shepard, and the sheep, and the fold.

To speak the truth.

To make alive.

Spirit.

To say a word that creates life.

Breaths breath, restores, banishes strife.

To speak a word to make a sound.

To heal all wounds.

Within and without.

To love so much that it melts away.

The limitations of everyday.

To allow what is, with such grace. To kiss each word, and to love each face.

To walk in shadow, and in light.

And always feel love burning bright.

To accept the bounds of this mortal dream, and surpass them, by my seeing, and the truth I've found.

To meet the law, with perfect grace.

To kiss each rule, and love each race.

To see myself within all things.

               To feel the unlimited love of God, as I bow the knee

                                  And submit to the word.

                               And live free.

                     To let this heart open wide.

       And allow it to love, and expand, to rise, like the tide.

                      And to bring what I feel within my chest.

               Eternal love, given, and spread to every breast.

                       And if the walls, and limits of this world.

                      Try to keep the truth from being told.

                            I’ll do my best within my realm.

                                    To preach a truth.

                              By love taking the helm.

                         I’ll bring a bit of the heaven I feel.

                                   And love everything.

                       And make alive what is really real.