Peace, fleeting as
can be,
Like the cotton candy
remnant of a beautiful summer day.
Listlessly drifting
to and fro amidst a raging sea,
Peace, there must be
a way.
Troublesome, the
times appear,
With anxiety and doubt
commencing from every direction.
Every corner of the
subconscious teeming with fear,
Gasping, in search of
perfection.
Pride, the reason for
stumble,
Mercilessly trapping God’s
people in lies and deceit.
As the walls close in
and the world begins to crumble,
Begrudgingly, we
admit defeat.
Prostrate, we come
before the Lord,
From our torturous
anguish and transgressions, we plead to depart.
A relationship so fractured
and blemished, how could it ever be restored?
Grace, which He wills
to impart.
Grace, free as can
be,
Meandering with
purpose from God on the mount.
Unmerited favor which
allows us to become Holy,
Peace, springs plentiful
from this fount.
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