Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Pray

A heavy heart can weigh you down;
Pull you so low, you can
Take shade under a grass blade.

It’s broken, torn down,
Your credence is now just a pile of rubble.
And the bits can’t be pieced together.


Every inch you move;
Seems like a never ending mile.
Nothing interests you, not even a lungful of air.


Though it can’t add a split second to your life;
Worry becomes your new abode,
In which you seek refuge for an eon or more.


Worry no more; just say a word of prayer;
Those which are impossible by the mortals
Is possible in the hands of the Supernatural.

7 comments:

smriti said...

lovely :)

"Those which are impossible by the mortals
Is possible in the hands of the Supernatural." I liked the original version of these lines better. One of d bestest lines frm ur pen. Very impactful :)

Amber Light said...

In the words of the famous Scribbler, perceptions differ ;)
My perception varies maybe only in the definition of the "Supernatural".

Nice one.

Muse said...

Rather, let's say "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him,who have been called according to his purpose."

:-)

deep said...

Um.. :) I like the soothing tone about the poem.

And what intense lines man - 'nothing interests you, not even a lungful of air'. Whoa.

CoFfEe AnGeL said...

ok
this is the best of alllll ur scribbles!! easy to understand...
light but with hope!!

autumn leaves said...

Those which are impossible by the mortals
Is possible in the hands of the Supernatural.
True:)

My Reverie said...

Nothing interests you, not even a lungful of air.

Though it can’t add a split second to your life;
Worry becomes your new abode,
In which you seek refuge for an eon or more.

brilliant work!! will love to read more of yours..