Quiet Spirit

The solitude and silence are my friends,
without them I can’t hear the Spirit speak,
with noise and crowds, the Spirit’s prompting ends,
distracted, I don’t catch His message weak.

The prompts are soft, I barely hear them come,
a mere whispered suggestion in my soul,
just then, I can’t tell what direction from,
no sound, no horn to blare, no drum to roll.

The message, clear and simple, something good,
but with demands, some suffering and cost,
I may not want to, but I know I should,
I have to write it down before it’s lost.

O Spirit touch, soft, sweet and never rude,
like a dove’s wing, my silent solitude.

                 -- by Pete Voelz      6/17/12