The Spirit of the River

I heard a voice in midnight's grace,
Whispering names through time and space.
“Lazarus,” he called, then “John,” once more,
As if to open heaven’s door.
A shimmer ran beneath the sound,
A current deep, yet all around.
“The spirit of the river flows,”
He said, “through hearts the Father knows.”
It runs through pain, it runs through peace,
Through grief that begs for sweet release.
It carries love that never dies,
Like stars still burning in the skies.
From Eden’s stream to Jordan's shore,
To where the lost are found once more,
This river knows what we forget—
That life lives on past our regret.
So when you cry or call a name,
You're not alone, you're not the same.
The spirit moves, unseen, but near,
It speaks in silence: “I am here.”
And in that flow, both wide and deep,
Where even ghosts of sorrow sleep,
You’ll find the truth the dreamer sees—
That we are one in love’s great seas.