A searching soul on a daily pilgrimage,

seeking wisdom as a solitary, solemn

traveler, silent and open to all God

will give — what only God can give —

to those humbled before the truth

of His essentialness.  I stand

outside and consider creation,

astounded by this expanse I could fall 

into as I stare into a welcoming sky;

my soul pushes the limits of skin;

my ruach, my spirit, longs

to be free of this bone ship

that hefts me on the sea of 

human frailty, wrecks me on a shore 

where sin swells in cold waves 

that drown, but I am saved; 

the salt from the spray, a tingle on my lips, 

reminds me this struggle, this day

to day, is temporary; our souls will soar;

we will lift up on wings like eagles,

carried on the song of angels, past 

stars and moon and space

into His evermore.

—C.L. Fisher, May 2020

Unless otherwise indicated, all content, including writing and images, are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.

2 thoughts on “Evermore

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