Joy Comes in the Morning

Swirling through life,

  pulled between yin and yang with no clear connection between the two,

  occasionally joined together to make a whole,

  the only surety is that chaos exists above all things.

My soul longs for rejoicing.

My body aches for warmth.

My heart wants not to be broken.

My mind wants only to rest.

In You alone my soul in silence rests,

  yet … there is never silence.

Where is the One who out of chaos created order?

Where is the Spirit that comforts the afflicted, the disordered?

I fear the silence will not come until to ashes I return.

I know that joy comes in the morning.

I hold onto that while I weep through the night.
                                                           bgclick