When I take the pen in my hand It is amazing even to me To watch the words form on the paper And they come so easily They come from somewhere within me A place that God only knows They flow to somewhere else within me A place that God only goes I am moved when I read them Just as I am doing right now I often shake my head in wonder And sometimes question "how?" I know the answer to this question For to me the talent was sent I have not embraced it all of my life Yet now I am my God's instrument I used to want to write for fame And publish the perfect book With the lead a fine wonderful brother The kind that all women do look I knew this book would sell, you see For this man would be almost flawless Now he'd have had just enough to keep him human But you'd love him-wasn't I a mess? Then my God allow my life to take Some turns in different directions I had many storms, suffered great loss And my writing became my only possession So I began to move me out of the way And seek the will of God He gave me something to write with each new day And this writing became my job He has used me in ways which move my soul In ways that I hold dear He has used me to give hugs to His people When I write, His anointing is always here I write by hand I write by type I write in the mornings And way into the night He has given me poems He has given me books He has given me essays And here is the hook: All words that God has given me I write them just as they are I will not change one jot or tittle And God will bless the heart Of each man and woman that shall read Each soul that has been sent Each heart shall feel the touch of his presence As long as I remain HIS instrument

Written by: Jaunda Taylor
jaundavaughn@hotmail.com
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