The Unheard Song

There’s that old saying,

“If a tree falls in the forest,

And there is no one around to hear it,

Does it make a sound?”


And sometimes I wonder,

If a heart goes to heaven and back,

And sees wonders and glories,

And is filled with the worship of angels,

And overflows with joy and praise,

But no other heart is moved by its song,

Has it made a sound?


The song that no one hears,

The words that echo off silent trees,

Do they really matter?


A life’s passion spilled on the ground,

And no one around to drink,

Is it spilled out in vain?


The heart that’s broken with longing,

And passion hotter than a thousand suns,

Yet no one around it moves at the sound of its breaking,

Does it break in vain?


The soul that gives birth,

In the secret place,

And brings the tender, living passionate thing,

Out into the light,

And no one else,

Lives because of it,

Is it a stillbirth?

Is it really a dead thing?


Living words,

Birthed with the passion of the Living Spirit,

That fall to the earth like so much wasted rain,

And everyone is indoors.


And I cry aloud in the streets,

And I’m wandering the wet roads alone,

And in those moments the wondering catches up to me,

And I can’t help but feel,

Like a hollowed out soul.


When you are a song,

And nobody hears you,

What value is your life?


When you are an instrument,

That gives tune,

To an empty room,

What good is your life?


When you are a letter,

That nobody reads,

And the message within,

Is never absorbed,

Are you a wasted thing,

When you might have been,

A useful thing?


I sit with You in the quiet,

And I know You’re here,

And moving in me and underneath me,

And I’m caught up in the rushing of the kingdom of God.


Living Word speaks living words,

And I glimpse the kingdom,

And the King,

And I travel to heaven,

And I’m caught up the mystery,

And I know it matters.


And I’m part of the one kingdom,

Part of the one Body,

And we altogether make the whole.


And their joy,

Is my joy.

And their success,

Is my success,

And their victory,

Is my victory.


And I know we’re all different parts,

Of the same whole.

And I know I have soul to give,

And they likewise do feed and expand,

My same soul.


And I know You’ve done,

And continue to do,

A beautiful thing here,

Son of God.


And I know I fit,

And I know something is taking shape here.

And I feel the wind of the kingdom as it rushes by.


Yet tonight,

I weep alone.

I spill my heart out full,

Into the rushing wind,

And it seems to fly back in my face,

Thrown at me,

Like so much mockery.


So much treasure,

And it spills into the sand,

And lays covered in dust,

At my feet.


So many jewels of the kingdom,

And they fall and bury and tarnish,

Unnoticed and unwanted.


And my life feels like so much passion,

Poured out into sand.

And I wonder if the blood and sweat and tears,

Is all for naught.


What good is an offering poured out,

If it is only poured out into the sand,

And evaporated?


I bleed out my soul,

And it falls,

And dies.


And I’m spilt on the ground,

But there is no one here,

To drink.


I pour out my soul,

And I wonder,

If it’s worth anything.


I pour out my soul and I wonder,

If it’s of any value,

To anyone,

But me.


And if at the end of my days,

All I have to show for my life,

Is wet sand,

Dried up again by the sun,

Will my life have mattered?


I ask the question,

When the walls press in,

And my heart hammers,

An angry beat.


Yet I know,

That the story is so much more than this.

And I know,

That You are working something,

Which You have planned,

From start to end.


And I’m one small part of that.

One ripple in a larger pond.

One forward movement,

In a rushing current.


And my life,

Joins so many others,

Moving towards Your throne room,

And the completion of the kingdom come.


And my journey,

Is the same,

As so many pilgrims,

Gone before.


And the trials,

And temptations,

And struggles I face,

In life,

And in my own heart,

Are common to all,

Who likewise,

Bear Your name.


You are the God who perfects us,

And who values the holiness of our hearts,

And who wastes nothing,

And who is working out His larger plan,

And who from beginning to end,

Does all things well.


And I commit my soul,

To Your safe keeping.

And I commit the pouring out of my soul,

Into Your hands.


And whatever You choose to do with it,

Is Your good will,

And plan.

And however You work my heart,

Is it good,

It is best,

And it is well,

With my soul.


You are at the helm,

And wherever You choose to lead me,

And whatever You choose to do with my soul,

And my life,

It is best.


And as long as I know,

That my life and soul,

Are poured out into Your hands,

I am content.


Only remind me,

That You are taking both my soul,

And Your larger kingdom,



And remind me that nothing is ever wasted,

And that You do all things,



Nothing poured out to You,

Is ever wasted.

And those who sow in tears,

Will reap with rejoicing.


And the harvest will be in my own heart,


God willing,

In the lives of others as well.


Yet whatever You choose to do,

You do all things well.

And the breaking of my heart,

And the spilling of my tears,

Are never wasted.


But they are producing a harvest,

Of righteousness in my heart.

Only, Lord,

I pray,

Let them so sow,

In other hearts,

As well.


If You are willing.


Use such as I,

Bring forth a crop here.

Bend my heart into the right shape,

And please,

Let it fit,

And be useful.


I pray.


Not as I will, Father,

But as You will.

You will answer this prayer,

As You will.

And I thank You for that.

For You do all things well.


And so much better than I.


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