Saeed Gomez

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The Hidden Hope

God is the painter. I am the canvas. Language is as pretty as one defines it to be spoken or written. Broken hearts may me, but the Lord makes them glad. Wounds of a dove, how they heal with grace. Pain paints a dark place, but who said darkness has to be sad. A mind not guarded can be robbed, just like self control can we fall upon at times. I smile in my highs and I keep a good attitude if I feel low. Worship can make the empty soul sing truthfully. Who can dj the sounds of the heavens better than the father himself. In all forms worship can be found, just like in all secret corners a treasure is a blessing in disguise. Love sings both highs and really lows. Wings fly together to the merries of course. A book, a flower, a tea, a fork, where does your beauty lie oh wonderful earth. The majesty of light who can extract its full value. The jasmine blossoms like the dew rains of the morning. Who whispers fancies all day. A bad day is not always a curse realized, a blessing lies for the beholders, who find treasures in the dirt of the mountains. The Lord is my secret, what much do you know of its depths. Like endless caverns, there is a sweet water lake at the deepest bottom. A level of innumerable quiet blessings, you shall sing for years of the sweet glories thereof.

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