Wind blowing through dying leaves.
On huge cottonwoods swaying.
Sounds like the ocean.
On a day when I have nothing to say.
No desire to obey the Lord in this.
When my voice feels vacant.
My heart empty.
The wind-waves crash against me.
Knocking over my will.
And I come to the keys.
Because He asks.
Because I love Him.
And I trust that all this obedience is not empty.
That He is not making a fool of me.
As I pry open the truth with these tapping fingers.
Just reaching for what is real.
Because I'm worn out with fake.
All this trying.