My invisible God, I hold You
in the arms of my spirit,
throwing a line out into infinity,
closing my eyes
and holding my breath
that You will be there
when I whisper my prayer.

My soul walks blindfolded towards You
gripping the horns of the altar,
white-knuckled in the darkness,
my body curled on my bed of pain,
my senses reeling,
pinned with the gravity
of a comfortless earth,
filled with uncertainties carved in stone —
but knowing I might soar
on eagle’s wings,
if faith would unlock the door
and cast the mountain to the sea.

And I, in wonder,
would observe, “Look,
just as it says in His book
He has done for me!”