Sometimes. Many times, I’m concerned the flights of words will crash upon departure. However, more often I determine to depend solely upon the Giver of all good things to work His will to see His words to their appointed destinations, be that wherever they may.
I write words on folded paper airplanes
And fly them out this high-rise window
To ride the lofty wind-current billows
Destinations by me unknown
Words to pray not to stray
Hints of hints to point the way
To other mysteries not in plain sight
But linked together by etheric flight
Fifteen minutes’ fame not my aim
Neither do I desire it be my name
A stone, a stone, a pure white stone
Connecting me to the Giver alone
His Name engraves this eternal call
My life known to Him among them all.
- Revelation 2:17