From A Thread of Scarlet (2024)
“Fan the flame, the gift of God,” Or so said the apostle Paul. But staring down the messy hall, I find the saying foreign, odd. What flame is there in all this mess? What room for holy righteousness? When all around to which I tend Is always scattered, needs a mend? Then softly comes the Voice I know, Or knew and hope to know again, “The Lord’s not in the earthquake’s blow, Nor in the rushing, crushing wind, But quiet in the work at hand, The Spirit’s flame awaits to fan.”
Composed February 22, 2024, 5:30 a.m. by Mark Feezell / DrFeezell.com
Included in Feezell’s poetry collection A Thread of Scarlet (2024)
Dedicated to the Public Domain (CC0 1.0) 2024
Image: Scattered Logs in Lake (IMG_6997)
poetry, A Thread of Scarlet (2024)
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