This weekend, I had the opportunity to read a poem at a wedding of a good friend of mine. In preparation for that moment, I read through a lot of poems I had written years ago. Years before I began my first novel, I fancied myself a poet. I will share one of my forgotten gems at the end of this post.
Writing has power. Words carry such emotion, and the ability to incite. It is my desire that all writers, authors, poets, even song writers would use this power to improve the world around them. I believe that one dedicated person can make a difference. Just imagine the difference we as a group can make as we increase our numbers. The world will always have bad influences, we will not be able to eradicate them. But if we can fill the world with good through our own efforts, I hope that we can drown out the influence of the adversary.
by Amber Lynae written in 2000
A humble death upon a cross
A life so pure now gone
But blessed is the sacrafice
Wrought for everyone
Nails though both his hands and feet
A spear wound in his side
Just one man could do the job
For everyone he died
Tears of agony run down my cheek
For the pain he had to bare
Filled with awe and appreciation
Of His gift so pure and rare.