Poetry / Author Unknown

It doesn’t have to rhyme,
and I don’t have to think.
I’m just the medium
for the artist
pulling my strings

I’m no dummy,
just his friend.
When He’s ready,
I jump eagerly,
in awe of what’s to come!

Themes conveyed,
thirst quenched,
it happens unexpectedly.
I have the option
not to hear.
But what a waste
that would be.

I wish I could record Him
quickly, so to capture
His every Word.
His appearance is a mystery,
His versus, unrehearsed.

I think I love Him,
the way He orchestrates
passionately,
in the most raw
form of beauty.
I hear no more,
I was full,
but now I’m empty.
He’ll return within me,
I await.

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