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| Photo by Donna Brown |
Some mornings, Lord,
there's a mist
inviting, calling, drawing me
within its soft and gentle haze
and then I follow, trusting
in the mystery,
that you are in the mist,
only you,
and I have not a thing to fear...
Still on other mornings, Lord,
when I see that murky haze
I shiver, I retreat,
afraid the mist might swallow me
to depths from which
there may be no return...
But day after day, Lord,
it's the same mist,
the same wispy veil,
the same sacred mystery
moving on the water...
It's the haze upon my heart
that clouds my vision, Lord:
one day seeing promise,
on another only pain...
Don't burn away the river's mist
for in it's mystery I will find you
but take away the shroud
that clouds my eyes from finding in the fog
your presence and your peace, Lord,
in the midst of the mystery
of your Spirit's holy haze...
Amen.
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