He Touches

When God meets man

He Touches
The dry petals of my past
Succumbs to ruin
Upon the grave of yesteryear
The beauty that has yet to flourish
Blooms everlasting
Upon my soul           it waits
In the stunning light           presently
Reeling in its effluent touch
It’s kiss of mirth        in the midst of life
As the wake on the waters stillness
Is it a fingerprint of its movement?
A boundless sound of God
Or just the hum of life

Reviews

[zirk]

"The beauty that has yet to flourish
Blooms everlasting"

This is the hope that keeps me going. Your metaphors paint quite a vivid picture. I wish I were able to so creatively use imagery. There's a lot of imagery here of life and nature and the beauty that God gives to things once dead or unfeeling. Or at least that's what I see.