aotwk

As I am met with travesty,
and I am broken and I am empty,
through it all I can see your face.
With words unspoken
I hear your voice and
I see the Hand, the Hand that writes it all.
You’ve called the wind to show its worth.
You’ve called the sun to brag about its warmth.
Because You are the writer,
Because You are the soul of the world.