When the words are stilled
And the muse is cold,
When the rhyme has fled
And the story left untold,
Stoke the ember of hope inside;
Rekindle the passion you did derive.
To flow forth the colors of life in verse;
To swim with intention to deeply immerse
With the air that the Savior has breathed within
We find that He is the poetry we seek therein.
©️2019 Rachel D. Lyne