The Joy of the Soul
Not in gold, nor fleeting fame,
Nor in the echo of a name—
The joy the soul in silence keeps
Is deeper than the ocean sleeps.
It stirs not loud, but gently glows,
Like morning light on mountain snows.
It blooms in places eyes don’t see,
Where truth walks quiet, wild, and free.
It sings not for a worldly stage,
Nor turns with time, nor dims with age.
It finds its music in the breeze,
In whispered prayers and rustling trees.
It dances where no feet have been,
Beyond the noise, beneath the skin.
In stillness rich, in sorrow wise,
It sees through veils, it hears the skies.
The soul, when joyful, needs no throne—
It smiles when simply left alone.
For joy, it learns, is not to hold—
It’s born when love forgets the mold.
So tend it not with grasp or goal,
But breathe, and let it make you whole.
The joy of soul, both meek and grand,
Is light cupped in an open hand.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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A gentle and true meditation on inner peace. It wisely contrasts the soul’s quiet, enduring joy with the world’s fleeting treasures, concluding with the perfect image of light cupped in an open hand—a joy that exists not in possession, but in grateful acceptance.