A crashing wave upon a stone,
centered beyond its usual home.
Alone, the wind guides waves
back to shore so they can tell a poem.
What legends must they tell?
What fable is so pressing?
Beyond the horizon is a
return that needs addressing.
Swiftly, Lord, You are coming;
with love, You’ve waited all these years.
The stones of Your creation
are crying out, stained with ocean tears.
Oceans deeper than our fathoms,
Forests fuller than our dreams
speak to Your imagination
Lord of Lords, and King of Kings.
Forgive us when we are
silent about Your glory.
Make us each a crying stone
that speaks, in part, Your story.
May Your fullness reigns in us,
bearing through us some new fruit;
May You deeply speak to us,
sharing with us Your whole truth.
Though the mountains may now stand,
they will fall when waves have finished
telling of Your ceaseless mercy and
glory no more diminished.