Sometimes my prayers fly like birds
Beautifully winged,
with hope,
sailing skyward
into the heart of heaven

Other times they sit with me, fallen.
Puddles on the floor around my ankles
Weighted lead, seemingly lifeless
Often sighing, heartbroken,
hardly spoken

Sometimes My prayers , like ammo
Like arrows
Shoot forward, into the heat of hell,
Meant to attack and protect
Fierce with longing
purposed and clear

Sometimes my prayers are Wednesdays
Trudging through ,
somewhere in the middle
One foot in front of the other
Dutiful, lackluster
Dare I say, halfhearted,

But Always.
His Spirit intercedes
when i cannot speak,
Where I cannot be.
These tiny offerings
Lifted to the throne
Held weakly before the king

And in the light
Of his hands,
his heart
We are
held together

And Even as I see...
And Even as it seems...
These things around me,
some just crumbling ...
He is greater than these,
Sweeter than I could ever believe

he is Bringing
Making new things

Glimpses of eternity

(Romans 8 : 26-27)
Colossians 1

(written 2015-2016)

Star Nakamoto