My soul shall never be satisfied. The beauty that is before me creates a yearning in mine heart for the heart of it's creator. Not only does the beauty touch my eyes, it sings, it sings to my ears; the song of the land.
The gentle winds whispers He loves us. The rolling hills yell that He is God, the suns warmth screams He is Most High and the sounds of children's laughter chants He is creator. The trees dance, the rocks crumble, and the flowers open in worship of His name. The brilliant blue skies carry out the rhythm, and the thick white clouds pound the beat, the beat of this land's song
The mountains rise up, yea they rise above all else. So powerful and mighty are they, yet their staff is silence. They do not chant, whisper, or tell; neither do they scream or yell. For they are silent. The Creator has wrapped His heart around these mountains, that all may feel the majesty, the majesty of this lands song.
No comments:
Post a Comment