Cursor

 

The cursor, blinks

Beckoning me to feed it letters, words, sentences, paragraphs, thoughts.

It calls to me

Feed me

What shall I feed the cursor?

Just letters, jumbled together in meaningless form?

Are the words that form under my fingertips mere cursor fodder

With no thing of depth

Of substance

Of purpose

Of circumstance

Of right-ness

 

The cursor beckons to me

I answer

 

Why has God chosen me to place these words here?

Am I taking the cursor seriously?

Do I consider the strength of what I write and say?

The power of words

Even more God’s words to his people.

I must consider well

What I feed the cursor

For it cannot be ignorant

It cannot be thoughtless

It cannot be empty

 

I am responsible to listen to the Holy Spirit

And feed the cursor with only the words the Great Word Smith

For the only words that will fill the cursor

Are the words from the Word.