PeterFrancis 1942 -6month gestation, stillborn

I used to picture God adrift in space and sky.
Sitting on a silver throne on the clouds that passed me by.
He was robed in gold, a scepter in His hands.
And scattered round His side, were angels, bands and bands.
A singing Alleluia, addressing Him with love, Yielding adoration, like His swiftly winging doves.
That flew just o'er His head above His shoulders touch
Cooing very gently we love you Christ so, much.
His scepter jeweled and brilliant with precious stones and light.
His robes a spending color of spun golden shafts of light.
Yes, I used to picture God in just this special way
With majesty and wondrous robes and angels at their play.
But, now, I see Him differently. He's seated on a hill.
It's sloping very gently, its green, its lush, and still.
The sky is at His back, there are no angels, no, no bands.
His garments pink and faded a wooden staff in hand.
He's humble and He's loving, He's gentle and He's mild,
A flock of sheep have gathered, around the Holy Child.
They lie about contentedly, falling, by His sides
And he's at peace and smiling in His green, his countryside.
No, no, no throne of silver, no robe of gold, no dove.
No bejeweled scepter, Just His earth, Himself, and love.
And as I watch Him sitting there with wooden staff and simple dress.
I can't help but feel a deeper love, a sweeter happiness.
The blue robe falls so, softly, about his girdle pink,
His sandaled feet are resting. He's falling fast asleep.
The sheep are nodding slightly He's sleeping so they think,
But, they don't know he wanted them to just so, wrongly think.
And now the flocks at slumber, and the Shepherd beams a smile.
He's been waiting for His angels, for they've been gone awhile.
Dispatched to different places all over Earth and Sky,
guarding, guiding hurting souls who laugh and sometimes cry.
And God's been listening quietly, and waiting all this time.
Listening To His children's needs, their daily pleads yes, both yours and mine.
My God is so, much closer now, sitting in the hills.
And I can often hear Him, when all the earth seems still.
A God that one can talk to through stammered words or prayer.
A God that's always listening to each and every prayer.
A Shepherd able to be all to each and every breath.
A King, a Father, truly from now and unto death.
And yes, there is a Heaven, perhaps it's in the sky,
Perhaps its in the mountains Past those rainbows way up high.
Or maybe Heavens but an angel, dispensed throughout the land
That flies unto hurting hearts to enlighten, understand.
Perhaps its listening quietly, with Him, the Holy King,
Or taking slumber in His greenery, with the sheep, the birds that sing.
Yes, maybe Heavens here on Earth, or maybe up above,
But, Heavens definitely there, where, the Shepherd spends His Love.