“But I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.” -Psalm 59:16 (NIV)
Sing, sing, sing. Early bird perched in brittle tree repeats. Sing, sing, sing. Wind whistle, heat pump hum. Puppy’s sleeping huffs keep rhythm with ticking mantle clock.
If I’m quiet enough I can hear strains of strength and love, always – even when I am too brittle broken tired to sing. The music is everywhere, all I have to do is listen.
Having heard, I test my dry brittle voice. Sing, sing, sing my own songs of praise. Songs that soar far above self-pity into the heights of thankfulness. And all things become harmless voiceless shadows while this heavenly chorus sings. The birds, the wind, the heat pump, the dog, the clock and me.
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