In the garden of my heart—
I am excavating the hope of
you that was buried in a chest
crafted by the Maker of all things
good, of all things lovely,
of all things.
Caked in the golden dust of
our Teacher, I pull the chest gently
from the ground, tracing
the carved contours with my finger—
eager to explore its
The Holy Ghost, like a gale
of wind, blows across the chest,
Hope, Promise, Love.
The lid raises, a white light pours
forth like a song of celebration.
I fall back on the soft soil. The sound
of many waters rushes through me and
then a still small voice speaks,
“I AM that I AM. I am with you.”