To Touch the Hand of God

To Touch the Hand of God

There are times we wear

shreds of angel wings,

whose enormous quills

fly about the wake that angels make.

We gather their feathers

to see what we can see,

in and out of time, in and out of

His holiness where love does start.

To begin again, no matter our sins,

no matter what road we’ve taken,

to be with Him, no matter

what’s happened we will

stand with Him,

alone in the stars. Alone of the skies

where angels still fly,

singing a song to all He is.



The valley at night has lights

of red and blue-white stars,

wavering through the  heat

of valleys that once were ours,

our chakras do emanate.

For those who’ve

forgotten His Godly compassion,

must we be taught a grim lesson?

Finding it hard to believe

in a merciful God 

in the depths of our night, in the depths

of His skies, in the depth of His skies…

 

Our seven chakras divide 

into the heart's chambers.

Holy!  Holy!  Holy!

The angelic host sings.

Holy are the souls in search of Him!

Our borrowed, heavenly plumage

flies us to God, in His heavenly place,

in spite of our unholiness 

still we'll sing out to Him!

God, in Your holiness, bring back

the fallen,

fallen from His love, fallen from Grace,

to love You again!  

God’s merciful skies shines on

to help the lost find their way,

even though we pretend,  not to be  part

the disgraced,

we still search for Him,

no matter how hard, no matter

 what we lose to be with our God.

Colors hover and emanate,

a hint of who we are.

The Solar Plexus’s lemon Jello

absorbs His spiritual light that

guides us through endless nights,

to face off the depths of our sins.

When the evening begins,

our transfiguration from night to light,

will flow from where You are hidden

away in the skies, away in the skies…

 

Where we must be again,

must begin again, in the heart of His love,  in the heart of His love.

We stretch forward,

to touch the hand of God,

to touch His holiness

which God  emanates.



The Sacral chakra lies in the balance

of our loves and our dreams,

our realities, often not what they seem,,

few are the times we intend,

few are our the lives we defend.



We must knock three times

at the door of Adonai

where the cosmic swords keeps His peace in a world of the fallen, still

in love with Him, in love with Him.

We hope to experience His truth, and

to hear the angels sing again!

Holy!  Holy!  Holy!

Those who’ve touched God

He'll awaken to life,

to a new dawn aglow,

for the ones who now know

the mercy of God. 

 

A heavenly chord sung for Him,

as someone’s Chakras

in heaven do turn again and again

as giant cogs creaking

in the morning’s thresholds of sky,

where a door once closed

has cracked open one more time.

We'll learn what we’ve stolen

past the cypress doors of heaven,

if only to learn to love ourselves once more,

to love ourselves once more...

 

Though we might be

half asleep, where our dreams do lie

in a sleep so deep, we don’t know if we’re alive.

Our hearts might start

in a dream that He makes

while we learn to be awake

for He has chosen,

to remind us of His mercy,

to remind of His love

given so long ago

to the fathers of our fathers.

He circles His skies,

to lead us back home.

To His gifts that was given!

Still we feel we have stolen

His laws as if they were ours.

We will return,

to Him again and again.

In the dawn of the skies,

where our alibis lie, but are plain to Him,

to come home once more

to create our lives,while

we search for Him, even

when the storms at night ignite,

we’ll love again, as long it takes

no matter how dark our lives,

no matter our lies.

No matter how hard,

we’ll find Him again,

we will be with Him

as the skies grow dim.

We’ll spread His love

to those who’ve not seen,

who’ve not seen

His endless light, from

the heart of Him, 

His love is once more as

He opens the door

to find Him again,

no matter what we've been,

we'll love Him again! 

About Lisa Tremback

I started writing in Elementary school and was published in school and local newspapers. I graduated from Kishwaukee College with an A.A. in English and a certificate in Computer Operations. I later studied under the poet, Bill Knox, at Columbia College in Chicago. I have been published at Colorado State University's underground newspaper. I enjoy writing almost every day and love to write about my relationship with G-d.

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