Never to Cease

Before Him, I bow.

‎Before Him,

‎my heart rises—

‎tall enough

‎to meet His gaze:

‎

‎His face on mine,

‎mine on His.

‎

‎What a privilege—

‎this intimacy.

‎

‎Yet—

‎tears ‎trace His cheeks;

‎His eyes hold ‎burdens

‎His lips can only whisper.

‎

‎My hands

‎do not stay still;

‎they reach—

‎gently,

‎reverently—

‎to wipe them away.

‎

‎My Saviour,

‎grant me this grace:

‎to do this forever—

‎never to cease.

‎

‎Amen.

Inkhorn Literary

He speaks. We write.