By Harold Vance
The Psalmist
Sitting just beyond the edge of the wood,
Within the wood, but before it grows thick and dense, 
The birds sing me to wake,
To really wake, to become awakened,
To become that much more alive.
I pray to the One who brought me here,
Who made all of this
For moments like these.
I pray for His voice to be made more clear,
And as that utterance makes its form in waves
And finds its way through my vocal labyrinth,
A new song races up the hill,
A man’s voice, Page, I think,
Erupting with Yahweh’s great joy,
Creating a beautiful harmony
With the song birds of this foggy morn,
When it dawns on me:
Just as the face of Christ can be seen in all of His Body,
So can the Voice be heard from all of those lips.
Page is not only singing a love song to our Abba,
But through the divine power of the Spirit,
Yahshua is singing a love song to me
Through him.
Harold is currently pursuing a BA in English with a certification in secondary education at Green Mountain College in Vermont. In May, he will graduate and shortly thereafter will head to Jeffrey’s Bay, South Africa, co-leading a Real Life Missions trip for Adventures in Missions. Harold’s biggest goal in life is to simply love, and love simply.