butterflies
words turn to butterflies-
entering the womb of my heart,
carrying me through the day.
i can look outside and see
the grey sky no longer grey,
but filled with mystery.
even the clouds, and their usual growls
seem to carry new hope.
nurture, nurture, nurture-
the word means something new.
its a slow process to grow something
beautiful-
i must remember to
let it flow-
day into night, night into day.
as each new sun passes-
i will smile.
i will hope.
i will wonder.
i will nurture.
i will give it away-
and wait for your words to return as butterflies.
entering the womb of my heart,
carrying me through the day.
i can look outside and see
the grey sky no longer grey,
but filled with mystery.
even the clouds, and their usual growls
seem to carry new hope.
nurture, nurture, nurture-
the word means something new.
its a slow process to grow something
beautiful-
i must remember to
let it flow-
day into night, night into day.
as each new sun passes-
i will smile.
i will hope.
i will wonder.
i will nurture.
i will give it away-
and wait for your words to return as butterflies.
-sea
________________________________________________________________________________
mosiac heart
i'd rather break into pieces,
than break into his nothing-
at least then,
You could turn those pieces into the beautiful mosaic that's now my heart.
in my brokenness-
only You could create an artful repair.
the day is divine,
once learned nothing can go back to the ways of our memory-
nothing will ever be the same.
it would only be a tragedy if it were-
i wouldn't have this treasure You made-
my beautiful mosaic heart.
than break into his nothing-
at least then,
You could turn those pieces into the beautiful mosaic that's now my heart.
in my brokenness-
only You could create an artful repair.
the day is divine,
once learned nothing can go back to the ways of our memory-
nothing will ever be the same.
it would only be a tragedy if it were-
i wouldn't have this treasure You made-
my beautiful mosaic heart.
-sea



