The Glow

A poem inspired by the quiet reverence of Luci Shaw, written through the lens of a modern soul aching for God in a world of glowing screens | by Taylor O’Lynn

The sun sat in my hand
no warmth, only a blue-lit hum.
A rectangle of mirrored silence,
asking nothing but that I stay still
and forget how to feel.

In the garden, the leaves didn’t blink.
They rustled secrets like psalms
read in a wind-whispered tongue.

I didn’t hear them.
I was busy with pixels
tapping light into a world
that never quite saw me.

Then a pause.
Not silence, but a stillness
God,
somewhere in the cotton hush
of midafternoon,
spoke not with thunder
but with the turning of a leaf.

And I remembered the ache
of being fully alive.
How revival might arrive
not in sound,
but in surrender
how obedience might look
like setting down the sun
or heaven cupping a spark
until it flickers into flame.

The tree did not scroll.
The sky did not flicker.
Even the clouds moved slowly,
as if they had time
to wait for me
to look up.

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