The lips and tongue have naught to say.
The heart is sleeping in its jail.
But the mind, the mind is up all night
contriving ways to make us fail.

The body drifts to places far
as heaven’s door is left ajar.
By morning light there is no fright
but mind is dead to inner light.

The stranger stirs yet in his sleep
as he wanders over God’s own deep.
The heart, now waking, stretches wide
and something in him casts aside
the stone and then he lives again,
but he lives alone.

The lips and tongue,
the heart and soul
must now contribute to the whole.
For silence spreads the true good news
that love can’t rest but must be used.

This useful love seems like a test
but it is different than the rest.
Once spoken, broken is the spell
and one is led right out of hell.

Vicki Woodyard