I tremble for a treble clef.
A man whose heart is not bereft of the love that’s left and center of GOD’s heft.
A man of His might who considers wrong from right.
He can withstand the storms and shield his tribe in the shadows of the night.
Music my only weft.
My cross that allows me to bear the wise.
Wisdom, my only salvation, GOD’s highest station.
The rhythm sets my mind in motion to move my subconscious to act upon the relativity less Neutonian and more of the ocean.
A wave sound abounds and I only rely on the thunder so when it comes I pray to succumb to the Master’s will and by His beck and call I will be revealed.
Oh the tremble, romance not my only chance at love.
GOD sends me cover to await.
I will be made great.
I have only to wait on the LORD, Oh LORD.
Holy, Holy, Holy.
by Jerriè McGill
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