What dreams may be shattered are surely no loss,
but parts formed in shadows illumined by gloss.
All thought to be mine, even destined design;
now in ruin and rumble, all a crumbled old shrine.
While this desert, this lone-space and stories poured out,
A whisper of God bundled truth in my heart.
Even the tender, the most fragile life-drifts,
are wooed by a silk wind’s embracing sweet lift.
Call me by my name Dear Lord, the one that You only Know
I will answer to no other now; all else I will forgo.
The Kingdom does receive my all and know me as His own.
And in Your deep Love I abide, in Mercy and Atone.
© 2016 Linda Willows
Photograph by Glazunov Nikolay