Today I inch toward the dream that beckons. He calls in a still, small voice. Much like the voice of God as described in the Bible. He does not call out loud or screams for you from a distance. Instead, he waves a gentle wave and smiles a sweet smile, as he beckons you to notice him from a distance. If you catch notice of him, which he silently prays you do, he opens his arms wide to accept you into his bosom, and embraces you like a father his child whom he loves so much.
Today there is room for sensitive response to the silent voice of the dream.
He will not sit in a corner of the park and folds his hands in disappointment, nor will he scowl and frown in dejection. He is ever hopeful you will remember, notice and approach him. Though your steps may be small, like a little child’s, he is happy even if all you do is take a tiny step and deliberate a long while before attempting a second move. He is ever patient and gracious. He is your dream.
Occasionally he jumps up and edges you on, when he feels your time is near and you ought to incline towards him. Yet he does not coerce; he steers. If you only listen. If you only obey. He will be yours.
Today there is room for sensitive response to the silent voice of the dream.
He will not sit in a corner of the park and folds his hands in disappointment, nor will he scowl and frown in dejection. He is ever hopeful you will remember, notice and approach him. Though your steps may be small, like a little child’s, he is happy even if all you do is take a tiny step and deliberate a long while before attempting a second move. He is ever patient and gracious. He is your dream.
Occasionally he jumps up and edges you on, when he feels your time is near and you ought to incline towards him. Yet he does not coerce; he steers. If you only listen. If you only obey. He will be yours.
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