In The Hands Of The Lord Poem by Thoughts of a Single Man

Destiny is not captured like the fluttering butterfly
it is made
it is crafted
it is determined like the final notes
written in a silent song
I have dreamed of many things on this road of life
for far too long
time was wasted on hollow hopes
negotiated in the navigation of a scripted path
seeking the family
the child
and the loving wife
I see now all I truly control is the pen that I hold
and the words that I write
pain blinded me and my vision was clouded
I was left in the shroud of regret
and solitude became my companion
as I caressed the fur of the beat of self loathing
and it became my pet
I am free now
in thinking and in thought
for I have been rescued from my own mental prison
the sutures of my soul mended
left in the riches of the Lord's stitches
and my wounds no longer bleed
I have become stringer in my illness
for as the body does and can heal in time
and so does the heart and mind
yes I am still the kind caring soul
but warm in my own shelter
rather than searching to save those in the cold
the game played by so many
has become so tiresome and so old
youth springs eternal in the poets latest journal
and the words fall freely
like the sweet rain from the gaping sky
clear as the unseen crystal
as I peer through it now
images no longer skewed in my eye
for as long as I have the gracious gift
of my loving breath
I shall try
you see I so not write for the sake of fame and glory
but to tell the unheard story
of those who also came from pain
those who know what it is like
to walk lost in the valley of remorse
who stand at the crosswords of life
not knowing which way to turn
for those who have those solitary moments of quit tears
that have been broken but desires that still burn
for those like me who have had hard lessons learned
the pen saved me as I have often said
and the dam burst
as the drops from the trickles
in the pining mind of a thought
bled into the rivers of my own conception
and roared into the churning waves
of an ocean of levied creation
love, life, joy, strife, pain, and merry mirth
and the greeted sunrise of tomorrow
are not promised as we all know
but with each day
I leave my mark upon each page that I touch
as I whisper a silent prayer to my creator
for this salvation and my scribe
I am healed
I am born again
I am thankful
as I am leave the treacherous to their own murky waters
for I am simply a man
who follows the ebbing flow of His plan
and still believes in love and loves his only daughter
proud to be able to have other read
what pours from my soul
yet no longer a victim of my uncertainty
and desires gnawing bite
for there is too much left to do in this life of mine
and so very much more left to write
no mater how many ticks left on the clock of time
for I finally understand
that I am held by His love
and will leave it all in God's hands
I will no longer ask the eternal questions
waiting for the answer to the ever spoken why
just smile as I have come to do now
let my head each morning bow
put my pen to this paper
and turn my eyes forever to the sky