Something I wrote in 2003 The daughter The place that she rests is like no other land, For this place holds the heart spellbound, and leaves one without breath. Is it the beauty of the land, or the keeper of this land that draws each new creation unto it? The daughter of her Father stands strong; her beauty more precious than any other. Her eyes, they hold the beauty and wonder of the great northern lights. Her skin is as soft as the breeze. She laughs with the mystery of the wolf’s cry. Have you seen her? The daughter of the creator, who has hair as the ravens feather, and the strength of the eagle. Her purity is that of a fresh fallen snow. This dear daughter of her father has great beauty and strength. You may believe that she wants for nothing, for the creator himself has called her, his own. This dear child, though her heart is pure, and she possesses all that one could ask for, sadly is lacking life its self. The creator has made her strong, yet she trusts no one. Her beauty is unknown to herself. She is like the great glaciers, slowly washing away, for she has forgotten to let the world around her be a part of her. She is unbending, unwilling to accept change, and loosing a part of herself each day, as she refuses to yield to the Creator himself. This dear child has run to hide from her protector. The creator continues to call to her, but the daughter of her father is afraid to answer; afraid to take the chance. The creator morns for his child as she withers away, forsaking the very thing she needs. The creator can be heard in the wind calling to his daughter, as she continues to run to and froe, aimlessly seeking what only the Creator himself can give. Her father, the creator wails and cries for his child, and gives all he is that she would come home to him. Then one night the daughter stops running, walks up to the place where the creator is, to find him week and dying before her. She cries and morns, as he whispers, see this life I give. My life itself; It is so you might live again. Thou you ran I loved you. Thou you rebelled I gave my life for you. Now,let me love you. She wept, as her creator lay lifeless before her. For three days the daughter mourned and wept, and that third day, He rose and life was in him once again… The daughter rejoiced and Sang with the voice of the wind. He has Risen.. He lives again… I am forgiven…. And the daughter of her father let him into her heart to stay!
Posted on: Fri, 06 Sep 2013 09:19:07 +0000
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