The Maker Calls My Name

Words spinning by,
Pendulium of time,
Outside of your protection,
All in the shade…

Rejecting the ways.
Falling apart,
No water in the well,
In my own hell,
Eyes full of glaze.

On the road neverending…

Already dead,
Walking asleep,
Will I ever wake up,
I am in too deep.

Radiant heat,
Comfort of love,
Where did it come from,
This pure white dove.

Speaking to me…

Like in dream,
All of this,
Is just happening…

This is the wake up,
This is the call,
I don’t have all the answers,
But He promises them all…

Decisions of the heart,
Made in the mind,
Prayed by the soul…

Maker of the mountains,
He calls my name…
But I have so much hate,
And so much shame,
I am in the valleys down,
Feeling all the world all around,
Yet the Maker,
He calls my name.

Published by Jenn Till Lee Copyrighted, all rights reserved.

Writing poems as an outlet for healing. My hope is in Christ

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