His Garden For Humanity

Scattering across fingertips
Sifting through contemplation.
This little story book called life;
She's now a pale pencil sketch.

Blow blinding wind. Exhaust yourself!
Whirl away this entrapment
Appease the past and hide me deep
For if I shine, I might lose control.

Is it not too good to be true
This scandalous purity
Whom desires to re-define
The epitome of me?

Look, the garden of His mind waits
Sweet songs simmering; calling.
Inviting into good comp'ny
Beyond splendid circumstance.

A convergence of bleak and bright
Between chaos and stillness;
Could my sun rise in His garden
And be found in His likeness?

With open hands the ash will fall.
 Inhumane rambl'ngs will cease.
The promise pages will be blank,
For that story is brand new.