The cry of a broken heart
Is like no other sound ever heard;
As deep as the depths of the winter,
As crushing as a single word;
A complex struggle of epic proportion
Through a tangle of feelings and vines;
A twisting labyrinth of human emotion
Of reading between the lines.
A simple case of misunderstanding
Is the tale of a mortal life:
Darkened perception with partial views
Into windows of suffering and strife.
One single piece, the move of the Maker
Seen only as strategy
Is only a snapshot, a wrong epigraph,
In the scheme of eternity.
While the eye of the mind may not perceive
Or discern the ways of the LORD,
A choice must be made and strictly adhered to:
"I will trust Him at His word."
A heart may feel forgotten,
Only a pawn in a game without end.
The lies whispered o'er and o'er,
"He's only using you to defend
His honor, His Name, His glory,
The myth of His infinite worth."
My heart hearkens back to the wisdom,
I am not at home here on Earth.
This game will unfold as a story,
Ending well known from the start.
The Author and Giver of Life
Will finally reveal His heart
All along, from the Garden of Eden;
His anguish, the depth of our fall,
Depravity, called for a Passion
Which prepares us for more than a ball.
Mankind is not Cinderella,
Though enslaved, not inherently good.
Yet a Prince still rode to the rescue,
Redemption purchased with blood.
Dripping the love of the Savior,
One day He will carry us home
And on Heaven's silvery screen
The story is made fully known.
The broken heart's cry has been answered,
The path filled with marvelous Life:
A Way made perfectly clear;
Truth whispered into the night.
Is like no other sound ever heard;
As deep as the depths of the winter,
As crushing as a single word;
A complex struggle of epic proportion
Through a tangle of feelings and vines;
A twisting labyrinth of human emotion
Of reading between the lines.
A simple case of misunderstanding
Is the tale of a mortal life:
Darkened perception with partial views
Into windows of suffering and strife.
One single piece, the move of the Maker
Seen only as strategy
Is only a snapshot, a wrong epigraph,
In the scheme of eternity.
While the eye of the mind may not perceive
Or discern the ways of the LORD,
A choice must be made and strictly adhered to:
"I will trust Him at His word."
A heart may feel forgotten,
Only a pawn in a game without end.
The lies whispered o'er and o'er,
"He's only using you to defend
His honor, His Name, His glory,
The myth of His infinite worth."
My heart hearkens back to the wisdom,
I am not at home here on Earth.
This game will unfold as a story,
Ending well known from the start.
The Author and Giver of Life
Will finally reveal His heart
All along, from the Garden of Eden;
His anguish, the depth of our fall,
Depravity, called for a Passion
Which prepares us for more than a ball.
Mankind is not Cinderella,
Though enslaved, not inherently good.
Yet a Prince still rode to the rescue,
Redemption purchased with blood.
Dripping the love of the Savior,
One day He will carry us home
And on Heaven's silvery screen
The story is made fully known.
The broken heart's cry has been answered,
The path filled with marvelous Life:
A Way made perfectly clear;
Truth whispered into the night.
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