The River Is Dry

I’m a solitary drop of water, in life’s river;
running the gauntlet of life;
I came from the mind of the perfect giver;
the origin of truth and light.

I’m meant as a gift for all who thirst;
for, I carry a drop of His truth, within;
all, need to be in His love, immersed;
for, love is where truth begins.

God sent his eternal love raining down;
the River of Life was its path;
the Master above still wears his crown;
but, love has overcome his wrath.

A river of life flows down his mountain;
all of life needs its love to grow;
originating from his mystical fountain;
with peace and love in its flow.

I was given words from the Father above;
to offer to those who thirst;
words infused with both hope and love;
given to the least and first.

But, I am a form of the Master’s weakness;
and my words simply lack his power;
I tire from the infusion of his uniqueness;
and, my words seem unable to flower.

My mind and soul have strength of the king;
but my body is rapidly aging;
no longer exhibiting his power, to bring;
and, my words, no longer engaging.

The River of Life, within, has run dry;
my words are losing their powers;
they no longer bring tears to my eye;
I’m only one of the Master’s flowers.