Lord,
Everything I have seems to be slipping
Through my fingers.
Tangible is so temporary
And things I’ve always valued
Are quickly gone
From my grasp.
I moan,
I weep,
I sing.
For while my hands are empty,
My heart is full.
Your love . . .
My trust in you . . .
Intangible . . . real . . . true.
I have nothing
Yet I possess everything.
By Martha L Shaw – © 2013
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