Psithurism of the Holy

Whispers.

Prayers I’m praying,

Murmurs of my heart.

I see these soul words slow-dancing in the Spirit,

Twisting, turning, swaying, billowing.

Finding a home as they reach my heart and extend to His.

Sealed with a promise,

Kept for a purpose,

Whispering through my soul,

Taking my breath away

While filling me with new life.

Beckoning me to embrace every awe-filled moment.

Ever present,

Revealing His mercy,

Gracing my days with blessing.

Rustling light amidst the shadows,

Unveiling sweet discoveries

For finite eyes to capture.

Filling the empty places with His whispers,

Psithurism of the holy,

Shouting through my life.

IMG_3746Psithurism:  (n.) the sound of the wind through trees

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