Imagine that God asked you to write the perfect poem. <br />You sat down at the table, pen and paper at the ready. <br />You let your mind drift, as if in gentle wholesome prayer. <br />You wait for some guidance as to the main theme. <br />Into your mind came the title. How? You could not say. <br />Yet there it was, as if it were your destiny... your duty... <br />You write the title down and pause to think about it... <br />Into your mind come images, unbidden, unrehearsed. <br /> <br />Images unfolding, as from some midnight dream. <br />You think you should write down the first line. <br />You force the first verse to fit your new desire. <br />The words work well and you are warmly pleased. <br />With a faithful heart, you press on with joy. <br />The images continue and more words flow... <br />Who is the writer now? Who is leading the pen? <br />You are puzzled as the images stop suddenly. <br /> <br />You are given time to catch up, so all is well. <br />The words become eloquent, bold and fanciful. <br />The story becomes more than what is first known. <br />A hidden meaning has yet to be revealed. <br />You sense it is on its way and you strain to know it. <br />What can it be? Is it a secret from the Lord? <br />Is it a precious prophecy, is it a holy revelation? <br />And you tremble, with eyes closed tight, waiting. <br /> <br />'Tell me! ' you plead with God... 'Tell me! ' <br />Then the secret comes and all you see is light. <br />White hot burning light, the essence of God's glory. <br />It is fitting to kneel in the presence of Christ. <br />Behold the Son of the Most High, the risen Lord... <br />And all that was written before means nothing. <br />Now is the time for revelation, for the Lord speaks. <br />And you are truly ready, for now is the time to write.<br /><br />Denis Martindale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-perfect-perfect-poem/
