A gentle wisp of yellow light unfolds,
around my hand it weaves its gentle way.
I wait. A sigh, and then my spirit holds
the hopeful grasp of iridescent ray.
O! that a balm could soothe my aching soul!
For even as we step into the wind,
I find ten reasons to escape. Control
attacks and tries to force me to rescind.
On broken wings, I yearn to follow You
but flesh holds back and bellows its false rue.
Still, now, You see my spirit’s thorny will;
You tell me of a better path to take.
Your wings can cover every mistake;
You urge my soul to mount, fly higher still.