Wind stirring up water, moving reflections back and forth in front of me.
Jesus - arms outstretched - could calm them if He wanted to.
I ask Him not to, because I want to see the turmoil caused by it without His gentle hand.
Aspiring to greatness - never quite getting hold of it - I sit and watch reflections moving wildly about, trying to find some meaning.
Knowing all along that only Jesus can give meaning to a reflection in the wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem