Staring into nothingness,
gripped by an unseen hand,
the stars shine forth their glory,
a shimmering hope in an uncertain land.

The shelter in the storm,
the oasis in the sand,
the breeze that cools your heat,
the support that helps you stand.

The nothing turns to something,
The unseen hand is seen,
The golden orbs of heaven,
illuminate the darkness with their sheen.

The uncomfortable quiet is filled.
The over- flowing is drained.
With the taking of abundance,
the giving is never strained.

The awkward silences can be golden,
A gleaming stone among the rest,
to be singled out and valued.
Never a sign of distress.

Staring into nothingness,
at the silhouettes of my hands...
The shape they make against the stars,
is reminiscent of a begging man.

But really, they are not seeking,
but stretching out to give.
To impart of my substance freely,
is the life I'd like to live.


1 Corinthians 13:8 " Charity never faileth:..."