The Palm of His Hands

Constant search for peace; can find none.
Existence bare of everything, 
only consciousness within the night.
The silence unveils enormous resting hands.
Only the hands, the huge unknown Being lost to shadow.
Calmly, patiently, lying there open
palm turned upward, stillness beckoning, come.
Exhausted, lost, in want of rest.
Choosing to accept the opportunity, 
bravely approaching loving presence.
Within the gentle folds, steps to climb.
Finally......... a safe place to rest.
Curling up in the loving palm as a babe in its mother’s womb,
It is here one can know peace and begin to heal. 

Leave a Comment