BE STILL AND LISTEN

BE STILL AND LISTEN

Be still and listen, a word to the wise,
You are nearer than you think to the pull of the prize,
The pot of gold where the rainbow sings,
The grand hallelujahs, the bells that softly ring.

Nearer each day, to laying down this tired sack of clay,
Nearer to the land where harps of angels play.
Nearer to the final intoxicating wine,
The final bacchanalia, the land of endless time.

The end game where there is mercy and nothing left to judge,
Goodbye to the bitterness, farewell to the grudge.
Nearer to a life well lived that parades before my eyes,
Eternity or nothingness, the final surprise.

Nearer to my dear mother who loved me evermore,
Nearer to the mysteries of what this life was for.
Nearer to redemption, sweet as the scent of the rose,
Be still and listen, where holy water flows,

Be still and listen to a night and day both filled with love,
A pillow as soft as a snow white dove,
A place to lay my head and dream sweet dreams forevermore,
Free from the spell of earthly hell,
And the agony of keeping score.

Nearer to the sound of the melodious horn,
Another day nearer for the lost and forlorn.
To lay their sharp and jagged burdens,
Down by the riverside.
To pick up their bed and to know for certain
The healing there in the Savior’s eyes.

Be still and listen to the penny tossed in the wishing well,
A miracle in the making, a truth yet to tell,
When the flag is unfurled to the end of the world,
The end of the lure of the mighty spell.

Be still and listen, for Arab and Muslim and Christian and Jew,
Are forgiven the hatred and violence they do.
Be still and listen, one to the other,
Formerly the enemy, now the cherished brother.

Be still and listen, for the glow of health glistens,
No more Parkinson’s, no more MS, no more the scourge of cancer,
There are no souls with bullet holes, there is peace and a final Answer.
Be still and listen, restored to the vigor of health,
Where rich and poor, they are no more, and at long last share the wealth.

Be still and listen, a word to the wise,
Be still and gravitate to the pull of the prize,
The rainbow of heaven where the pot of gold sings,
The grand hallelujahs where angels earn their wings.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED