This peace is not borrowed

 

Within my chest a quiet sings,

No crown of gold, no earthly kings,

Can grant the gift that waits inside,

A love no storm can steal or hide.

 

It is no thought, nor fleeting dream,

But flowing like a silver stream,

A tender touch the soul can keep,

A well of light, divinely deep.

 

No plea, no prayer can make it grow,

It waits for hearts that dare to know.

In stillness found, by self aware,

This love is ours, it’s always there.

 

And when its warmth begins to rise,

It paints the truth behind our eyes:

That inner peace, both pure and free,