Black Poetry : psalms of serenity to the Creator (j'hiah, 1poetsought, skrybe)

3boyztomen.

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Jul 1, 2003
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awaken to a clear cusp of morning
solace sunlight
casting a serene shadow
on my bed of thanx
body and mind cleansed
soul rinsed from a week's work
l step outside my door
as the summer's cool breeze drifts me away
from the madd work and play that surrounds me
to He who grounds me..
looking at the passing clouds
each one containing every memory
good and bad drifting away
making their stay before God's face
who gives me so much grace..
the grace that brings me to this place l am called-
a man
a real man who was distant from Your place
but now you are my bridge between time and space
the path to your peace l seek to trace everyday
even after a fall...
Christ- Lord of all
converting all of my pain
mistakes
and sins into sky blue
after You told me to try You
dying so l can live
and so my people can live
beauty for ashes you give and here am l-
jh

Morning calls,

This side of wailing walls~

l'm enthralled...

That's the joy that it brings

Mad adoration,

For the Living God-

Acknowledges reality then

At peace in His presence,

l express my need...

Believing he'll do requests,

Cause at best...

l'm a sinner with an awful debt

Praying, to be Heaven's guest

So l ask for forgiveness,

And confess my sins...

Shame written on my face,

Show love and thanksgiving-

For what's on my plate...

Served by the goodness-

Of his grace!

1poetsought

blessings from his brightness
the Light just transcends
all life and creation
He is good
His grace abounds
in the face of sin
and all is owed unto Him
for the drawn breath
and the thought that courses
through the marvel of the mind
He is God for all time
and worthy to be praised
yea for He has sent His
Son to bear the sins
of all men that we
would not have to be condemned
to everlasting hellfire
His desire to be
praised and hailed as the Almighty
is our command
and we as men fall short of His glory
His grace
His will and His way
is beyond our own
for we are created with a nature to sin
embedded within our flesh
of which the wages are death
He is to be blessed
skrybe[

1poetsought, skrybe, j'hiah- copyright cdlm 2003.
 

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