The Mystery of Me

Sometimes my heart is like a great searchlight illuminating whatever is around it.
At other times it is as small as one birthday candle lit just for me.

Sometimes my mind is filled with poison and needs to be drained.
At other times it is empty of all evil and has words of comfort for the world.

Always and never are forever opposites and cannot be reconciled by the mind
That produces them.

In between the tiniest ferns with their delicate spores I sit.
Out among the balcony of the rain forest I gather myself again.

God is hidden inside of me and then He seemingly goes away.
But it is I that go on holiday without Him. Then I forget
The goodness that lies within.

My life is small and petty; my truth is hid among the pain.
Only when I claim the Healer to be myself
Can I be born again.

Vicki Woodyard

2 Comments

  1. Oh my gosh Vicki, this is such a beautiful poem!! Of the ones of read of yours, this my favorite!! I got choked up by the end. I felt your words. You have described what is to be human, or can be if you go inside and look.

    Hope you’re feeling better my friend.
    Thank you for your gift today,
    Tami

    Reply

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