Filaments that stand tall as their last remaining embers lie in the path of the Spirit’s wind. They wait for His breath to be funneled towards them that they may glow anew and burst into flame.
With anxious patience they await His whispers that will bring newfound seeds to be strewn by the Gardener’s hand.
One glance at the miracles of His creation in nature leave us awestruck by what He is capable of.
Come Holy Spirit, come, Blow Holy Wind, blow!
Let me be renewed in the wilderness of your whispers.