If I had a love song sung to me, what would it say? I don’t even know anymore but definitely not the soulless ones on the radio today. No, take me back to the 70s, even the 60s maybe... when words meant something. I guess I would want it to know me, deeply, intimately. To speak to the most inner parts of me. To move me by slowly leading me into its embrace. To touch me in ways that only it could. To speak to me in ways that open up the closed off parts and allow me to slowly open up to it. I would want its melody to embrace me in ways that allow me to be free again, be me again. To let the little child out to play for a bit. To hold me through tough times and grow with me spiritually until we enfold within each other. The song must speak strong enough to guide me, soft enough to hold me and playful enough to make me laugh. That’s a lot for a song, don’t you think?
Keeping that in mind, I had some help putting these lyrics together, but they did not turn out too bad, if I say so myself. As I sat back and listened, I realized that a lot of what I wanted to hear, is exactly what our LORD says and provides. Amazing isn't it? Yes, indeed it is.
To those who need a love song... one to sing you back to yourself.
Lyrics:
I’ll come to you slowly, love,
like morning on your skin.
I won’t ask you to open,
I’ll just wait and breathe you in.
There’s a quiet in your shadows
that I’ve learned to understand—
you don’t have to say a word,
just place your heart into my hands.
You’ve been holding up the sky alone,
but you don’t have to anymore.
Let me be the place you rest,
the warm light behind your door.
Let me sing you back to yourself,
to the girl who used to laugh so free.
Let me hold the parts you hide,
the ones you think no one should see.
I’ll be strong enough to guide you,
soft enough to let you bloom.
I’ll be the voice that wraps around you
like a safe and sacred room.
I’ll touch the places time has closed,
not to break them, just to feel.
I’ll trace the lines your soul has drawn
and show you they’re still real.
And when the world feels heavy,
I’ll be steady as the ground—
you can fall into my arms,
I’ll always catch you on the way down.
You don’t have to hurry, love,
I’ll match the rhythm of your breath.
We can grow in quiet spirals,
two hearts learning tenderness.
Let me sing you back to yourself,
to the woman rising from the dark.
Let me warm the places cold,
let me spark the sleeping spark.
I’ll be strong enough to guide you,
soft enough to let you bloom.
I’ll be playful when you need it,
I’ll be still when you need room.
And when your spirit trembles,
I’ll hum low against your spine.
When your laughter wants to surface,
I’ll lift it up with mine.
When your soul begins to open,
I’ll be patient as the dawn—
I’ll stay with you through every season,
until your winter’s finally gone.
Let me sing you back to yourself,
every layer, every hue.
Let me love the child within you,
and the woman breaking through.
I’ll be strong enough to guide you,
soft enough to let you bloom.
And if you let me, love, I’ll meet you
in the center of your truth.
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