God's Gift

As I walk down this dark and dead meadow, A flower snares my eyes. Captive by it's beauty, I kneel before it, And pray. I pray to the Lord, Begging for more of it's kind, For the meadow to fill, With the flower divine. As I sleep, In my bed far away, I dream of the flower; In days upon days And nights upon nights, The flower does spread, Removing the blight. I wake the next morning, To the dead meadow I rush, And upon arrival, A sea of color in flush. As I walk down this divine and bright meadow, A tree snares my eyes. Captive by it's pain, I kneel before it, And pray. I pray to the Lord, Begging for it's health, For the tree to heal, And its blight to dispel. As I sleep, In my bed far away, I dream of the tree; Days upon days And nights upon nights, The tree does heal, Escaping it's spite. I wake the next morning, To the decrepit tree I sprint, And upon arrival, A tower in the wind. As I walk to this tree, massive and grand, A seed snares my eyes. Captive by it's frailty, I kneel before it, And pray. I pray to the Lord, Begging for it's strength, For the seed to rise up, A grove in it's wake. As I sleep, In my bed far away, I dream of the seed; Days upon days And nights upon nights, The seed becomes many, A circle of light. I wake the next morning, To the burrowed seed I dash, And upon arrival, A halo detached. As I walk to this tranquil and loving grove, A riverbed snares my eyes. Captive by it's sorrow, I kneel before it, And pray. I pray to the Lord, Begging for it's embrace, For the bed to well up, A flow of pure grace. As I sleep, In my bed far away, I dream of the riverbed; Days upon days And nights upon nights, The rains keep falling, A channel of might. I wake the next morning, To the dried river I prance, And upon arrival, A glimmering lance. As I walk to this strong and beautiful river, A meadow and grove and river all snares my eyes. I pray to the Lord, Begging for it's warmth, For a home in this once dark land, That God has now morphed. As I sleep, In my bed far away, I dream of the meadow; Days upon days, I see a man dressed in white, Moving the river to cut across the flowers, Taking the grove and changing it's like. I wake the next morning, To the meadow I trot, And upon arrival, A home God has brought. I wake the next day, And rush out of bed. I knock on your door, And kiss your sweet head, I take your hand and skip to the meadow, To show you the home God has now shed. I kneel before the door And pray to God for his gift: The home he had made, Born from decay, Turned into life, Woven from love, And dreams alike. He gave us love, A home, Our life; He gave me you, A flawless light.