Stillness, vastness running over.
Fire’s gaze upon my heart.
Burning coals that sear and burn.
Grace that meets me at every turn.
Shifting shadows that flee way,
things that dazzle and come into play.
You belong and all else holds still.
Perfection’s intensity is real.
You move, you lift, you turn and you see.
You grasp and shift what is plain to me.
You shake and burden the hearts that feel.
You are striding even when you are still.
Author – Bill Tidsbury