Writers 
The Holy Spirit, quiet companion, gentle tide,
a steady hand when the world's weight presses low.
When shadows stretch and the earth feels too wide,
He whispers love that never asks why you're bowed.
Unconditional, a lover's heart that won't fade,
present when friends and family slip away,
a constant friend who turns loneliness into peace,
He never leaves, He's always there.
In the silence, He speaks, not with thunder, not with noise,
but a stillness that settles deep within the chest,
a breath beneath the breath, a quiet, steady voice
that turns the restless heart toward rest.
He speaks in the pause between one tear and the next,
in the hush after prayer when words run dry,
in the ache that has no name, no verse, no text,
He answers not in sound, but in why.
When the night grows long and the morning feels unkind,
He moves like wind through branches, unseen but known,
mending what was broken, untangling the mind,
reminding the lonely they were never alone.
He is comfort without condition, wisdom without pride,
a presence that lingers when every voice has ceased.
In the deepest silence, where all noise has died,
He speaks softly and the soul finds peace.
So when you cannot find the words to pray,
when your spirit's tired and your faith feels thin,
listen closer.....
in the quiet, He will stay,
for in the silence, His voice begins.