Monday, April 4, 2011

In My Hands

A pale, thin ray of straining sun
Slipped through my clenching fist
I still refused to let it run
And stifled it to rest.
Oh, how could I, who knew no light
Let it disturb my mind
A thing which turned the sheet of night
And healed the broken blind?
Too great to hold, too fair to free
A thing of grace and peace
Before my heart could learn to flee
The sun made its release.

No comments:

Post a Comment