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Riding on Heaven's Breeze
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Riding on Heaven's Breeze


Lord, here I am with no control

Infirm within this bed

Wrapped in The One who saved my soul

Who raised my shameful head


You gave doctors knowledge here

Nurses, such love and care

I feel Your presence ever near

With all You have to share


Vast technologies are all round

Warring against the pain

Pumping in treasures so profound

Like drops of silver rain


Yet though I fail to understand

The reason this should be

I know my days are in Your hand

And You could rescue me


My arms and legs I may not move

I breathe but through machines

But through me still, I hope You’ll prove

What true salvation means


Lord guide these tools in whom I trust

These servants in Your hand

Make all my ailments turn to dust

Whilst faith takes up its stand


You made me flesh in spirit too

You’ve blessed my aching soul

All that I am is asking You

Please make Your servant whole


Whatever yet life’s storms my bring

Malady or disease

My praise will rise to You my King

Riding on Heaven’s Breeze.....

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Submitted: Saturday, December 12, 2015

Last Updated: Saturday, December 12, 2015

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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