by Shelbe Stewart

Created on: March 24, 2009

Poetry: This is now.

The point of view, cringes the mind with hate.

Cancelling the love, we wanted God to make.

Starting again? But where is He?

The same one who made, you and me.

The same one who hears every prayer.

Who knows the number of our body hair.

His touch puts out that burning lake.

Cooling the soul, for the soul's sake.

We've put Him on hold.

His love we must save.

We must do it now.

We can't from the grave!

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