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.

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.

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.

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.

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.