I am like a shadow,
Still there but unheard.
I am like a feathered wing,
The helpful tool of a bird.
The writer of this world I'm in,
The creater of my feelings, my movements, my words, and my thoughts,
He holds this world in the palm of his hands,
Like a thin orb of glass to never be dropped.
He gave me the will,
To walk that gravel road.
Even while the rest of the world lay still,
Onward I strode.
With tears streaming down my face,
And my muscles tensed with fear,
He willed me to continue that way,
His voice being the only thing I could hear.
He told me there was an angel there,
Awaiting for me to enter,
With a golden halo and wings made of silver.
And the purest of hearts right at the center.
I entered the house of the Lord that night,
And kneeled before the alter with a bowed head,
To him I gave my whole life,
and ended every prayer with "Amen".
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