Before I knew God,
I felt him.
In the tiled floor of my bathroom,
back when I thought
pain could only escape
through veins.
In the quiet corners of my room,
where I called out
and was received with
silence,
which I mistook for absence.
Before I knew God,
I saw him.
When I was met with the breeze,
and when the trees would swing.
When the birds chirped
announcing another day
I didn’t think I’d see.
It was His before it was mine.
I was His before I was mine.
And when the first rays of light hit my face,
I’m reminded
that darkness wasn’t all there was.
Then when I met God,
I understood;
He was Light all along.