Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Music's Wings

Music’s Wings
by Megan Amelotte

The string is brushed
the note is played
the soul is touched
the musical sound is born.
So innocent, so sweet.
To rest upon that note
lean against its curve
melt into its harmony
to float away on that sound
is to never again touch the ground
taking off on music’s wings.
There is no voice
like the voice of my soul when it sings.
To fly high into a world of colors
only seen by the ears.
A musical soul can see when it hears.
To never again see the earth below
only the miles of sky left to cover
as the birds fly by
and the angels, too
as God paints the sky
a foreign blue
a blue that is only
known to the soul
for it is music
that makes me whole.

Friday, August 2, 2013

The Silver Pathway

The Silver Pathway
By Megan Amelotte

I look out across a blue horizon,
the sun reflecting off the sea,
creating a pathway of silver coins
that Jesus walks across to me.
With a brush He paints the sunset,
with colors so vibrant and bright.
The reflecting coins turn copper,
Dazzling the world with their light.
He sinks the sun into the distant waves,
from the sea the moon is pulled.
He throws it up into the sky,
to be rocked in sleepy hold.
The sea and sky are painted black;
in the sky the moon holds tight.
The waves stroke tired shore;
the pathway of coins turns white.
From the path Jesus takes thousands of coins,
throws them into the great scroll of sky,
where they shine down as stars,
smiling from their perch so high.
I look out across a black horizon,
the moon reflecting off the sea,
creating a pathway of stunning white coins
that Jesus walks across to me.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Purity

Purity
-by Megan Amelotte
I lean against the window
take in the breeze, the air, the wind.
Its scent, its calming touch
calls out to me.
My soul recognizes the wind
and knows it as its own.
For the wind and my soul are the same,
pure, strong, crafted by God.
In the same way,
my soul knows music.
The God in me, my inner fiber,
hears the soulful sound in music
and knows it as pure.
My soul feels nature,
trees, flowers, grass,
and sees God’s craftsmanship
and sees it to be holy.
My eyes see the clouds, the sky,
the brilliant sunset.
The eyes of my heart, of my soul
look upon these with longing,
for they are genuine works of the Lord.
My eyes see humans, people,
and my soul sees them as God’s own,
sees them as good.
My soul sees no bad people,
for there are none,
only pure souls.
I look into the eyes of those I love
and our eyes are the opening
of our souls.
Through connection of glances
forms a connection of souls.
It is through eyes
that souls are touched.

Saturday, March 30, 2013

He accepted the cross, and the pain
for every person in every nation.
His loss and agony was for our gain,
His cross became our foundation.
He cried tears for the people who mocked Him.
He prayed for those who deceived Him.
Jesus told us that He would rise again.
He lives in those who believe Him.
His last few minutes of strength
granted from above.
His arms outstretched
in an everlasting sign of love.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Strength.....

My eyes closed, my head bowed, I lay prostrated on the cold white tile. I felt alone, unsure. An immense warmth enveloped, surrounded me. I was aghast, for I did not understand it nor where it came from. My eyes slowly fluttered open, and I realized that I was staring up into the smiling face of Jesus. At seeing His beautiful, understanding, accepting face, my heart opened up. I felt it tangibly open up and welcome Him in. I pulled my hands toward me when I discovered that they were resting on Jesus’ feet. The tiles that He stood on glowed with a pure whiteness and stood out from all the other tiles.

“I am not worthy to even touch your feet, Lord,” I stammered. How I wanted to touch His feet, but I knew I did not deserve even that. “I have sinned against You and my family. I have shut out my heart and not lent a hand when it was needed.” I lowered my head in shame and curled up into the fetal position, clutching my fists to my chest. Jesus knelt down before me, raising me to my knees and taking my hands in His. They were warm and my palms fit perfectly into His. Immediately soothed, I smiled.

“You are already forgiven,” whispered His eyes. Jesus does not need His mouth or even words to speak.

“I need the strength....to help me show Your love. I need Your strength,” I pleaded. My own strength was faulty and small. Jesus brought His hands to His heart and pulled from Himself a dancing white flame. He handed it to me, placing it in my hands as if it were a delicate little bird.

“Let your strength be a fire, that it spreads to others and continues to grow stronger,” Jesus told me. I glanced down at the flame as it twisted and turned. I looked questioningly up at Jesus. He nodded encouragingly. Cupping my little flame, I pressed it forcefully to my heart. It then disappeared into my soul.

My body burst into white hot flame, filling me, becoming me. I felt no pain, but was strengthened. My body alight with a white glow, I shared a parting glance with Christ.

“Share it with the world,” He said. The world faded to black and as it did, I glimpsed the glowing tile where Jesus stood before going completely blind.

-Megan Amelotte

Monday, January 21, 2013

Every Heart

Every person has a heart,
every heart is capable of love.
Every heart has God in it,
every heart comes from above.
Not all hearts are strong,
not all hearts hold beauty.
Every heart has a purpose,
every heart has a duty.
Not all hearts are kind,
not all hearts are free.
But with God's love,
they all can be.



Wednesday, October 31, 2012

When The Heart Cries

When the heart cries
the Lord hears it.
When the heart lies
the Lord hears it.
When the heart breaks
the Lord hears it.
When the heart aches
the Lord hears it.
When the heart stops
the Lord makes it start.
He lives within
each beating heart.