(Dedicated to all those of quiet impact)
She dosent talk, she dosent post, she dosent shout.
He comes in, works it and walks out.
No flashlights, no spotlights, yet he’s the light and all dark eyes know.
No celebration of her name, no serenade for her fame, no declaration of her day, only the ovation of spirits, only the recognition of Abba.
No stickers bear his name, no posters carry his face, yet every touched heart knows his hands, every bruised skin knows his balm.
Not loved widely but ever so deeply, she carries the burdens of a hurting generation and the secrets of a battered heart and to her grave will they go with her.
Hoping for the the tiny lens of heaven, for the cameras of Hollywood ever so flashy overlook him.
No streets bearing her name, no cult chanting her fame, no frames for generations to know her face, yet purer heart has not this earth seen, a more loving soul this world has never hosted, she gives her best and keeps what’s left, animals call her kind, strangers pray for him, beggars know her name, prisoners remember his song.
His works carry no credits, her works bear no copyright, she just keeps working right and walking right through stony hearts, for she is wright. A flat character in her own story, yet acting round all heart, for an audience of One. She may not make history but she’s already part of His-Story.
What is the payment of a pure heart? what is the award for a sacrificial soul? what are the wages for a selfless life? it exists, just not to be found in this world. So he’s looking forward to the city who’s builder is God, from where he derives his citizenship, she’s longing for His recognition, Him for whom she lives and breathes.
So ignore the quietness and keep on the impact, and should the world ever take note, carry on all the same, don’t stop here, you cant stop here.