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Friday, June 4, 2021
“JUNE IS MY SWEET LOVE SONG TO YOU”
(FROM MARCH TO DECEMBER: A PROPHETIC POEM )
Luke 21: 29-31 (TPT) “Haven’t you observed that when the fig tree, or any tree, buds and blooms, the season is changing and summer is near? In the same way, when you see these prophetic signs occurring, you realize the earth is yielding to the fullness of God’s Kingdom."
Below is a poem the Lord dictated to me a while back that covers the seasons from March to December. He hardly ever speaks to me in poems and I hadn't really thought I would ever share it, mainly because I didn't know what much of it meant. In fact, I still don't understand much of it; but, I keep feeling led from God to post it today on this 1st day of June, which He speaks about extensively in the poem and calls "My Sweet Love Song to you".
The poem feels kind of jolty sometimes, because it doesn't really have any kind structure and not much of a pattern (except for the phrase: "Time to rest your weary head, My Child in the Son who loves you most" repeating throughout). The Lord said there is a reason for this lack of structure and pattern in the poem and it is that He wanted it to show that He is doing a new thing in a new way on a new day of a new season, and the cycles and patterns of the past are passing away, so some of the things that happen by His Hand in this season may not seem at first like they have any rhyme or reason. It is a time to expect the unexpected and know that "God can do anything far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams!" (Ephesians 3:20), while continuing to enter into full Rest in the Love and gracious care of Him who loves you most, through all things present and to come. The poem also echoes several older songs and poems with the months of the year in them that I (and maybe you also) have heard before. God said the reason for this is that He is bringing back the promise of His Words that were spoken to us in the past, some that over time came to lay dusty and forgotten, as He prepares much behind the scenes to bring old promises, old dreams, old visions, and "old" desires He has placed in our hearts to fulfillment and completion.
The Father says, "This is a time of crossing over and seeing My Waters of Deliverance close behind you, washing away old yokes and bondages and warfares into the Sea of Forgetfulness. It is a time of great Harvest, Glory, Restoration, Miracles, Justice, Vindication, Healing, Salvation, and new hope being reborn, even amidst the chaos and the gross darkness that transpires all around the world. That is the great Paradox of the Times! says the Lord. It is a time where human doubt meets supernatural faith from Heaven, dispensed in such a way and such a measure that it will forever eradicate My Remnants's capacity for fear, doubt, and unbelief, as it was with Thomas as He touched the wounds on My Hands and Feet and his doubt was forever destroyed!"
I pray this poem blesses you and that God speaks to each of you through it personally. And, I pray you all have a blessed, glorious, miraculous, and joy-filled 1st day of June and rest of the year! 
FROM MARCH TO DECEMBER: A PROPHETIC POEM
Time to rest your weary head, My Child
In the Son, who loves you most.
For, melancholy March goes out like a lion
As Heaven’s winds come roaring forth
Singing their Golden song so wild
That teaches daffodils, meek and mild
To dance as they trumpet on
To announce the rebirth of Hope
And the start of a new time of spring
That melts the bite of past winters’ chill
And whirls the frost of old snowy ills
To make the earth so cleansed and fresh
And pave the way for April rains
To advance and water deeply
The fragrant, miraculous buds of May
Pretty May comes so full of Promise
Not kept quickly enough for some
And from that crowd of doubting Thomases
That say that summer may never come
A gasp of awe will arise so loud
As they touch My Hands and Feet and know
That surely their Messiah has won
And you’ll hear them declare,
With no doubt in sight:
Oh summer has come at last, My Lord!
My summer is coming by dawn!
Time to rest your weary head, My Child
In the Son, who loves you most.
Pause and see if you don’t feel
That your summer has surely come
For in marches June, not coy nor shy
But busting all over with song
And hear the Voice of My Spirit cry out:
Look around! Look around! Look around, sweet child!
See, the heralds of summers to come:
And feel the Summer even now in your heart,
And see the Summer even now in the ground,
And hear the Summer even now in the trees,
And smell the Summer even now in the breeze,
Busting all over With Glory!
All over the meadow and over the hill
Where sweet buds transform into blooms
Where seeds become trees
And droughts become roots
Comes bursting such Harvest
Beginning in June
A bounty of My choicest of fruit
So fresh and alive and joyful and new
This June is My Sweet Love Song to you
With wonder and fury and fire colluding
And Glory Divine declaring at last:
My Sheep are sleeping no more!
And, something about what happens next
As a shout of freedom explodes
Alas, it will feel like Christmas will ring
In July as rains tumble forth
And voices abound
Declaring at last:
“Hallelujah, I believe, My Lord!”
A cold wind in August
Will bring such relief
From the scorching hand
Of the burning fire
Of the seasons travailed in the past
As you stand in the Garden
of the Great Rectifier
Come rain, come shine
You’ll see My Hand
And hear clearly the roar of My Mouth.
Time to rest your weary head, My Child
In the Son who loves you most.
For, ahead comes September
A time to remember,
Oh, September, when it comes!
Setting your feet so steadfast and firm
On a freshly-laid sunshine road
As My brand-new Song for you is bestowed
To fuel your walk as October goes,
And on sweetest November:
A cascading flow
Of the golden honey of My Rains of Hope
As I pour on this Sweetest November
Time to rest your weary head, My Child
In the Son, who loves you most.
For on sweetest November,
The world is renewed:
It's color and warmth and splendor accrue
As up becomes down
Overturned by My Hand
And sweetest November
Melts into surprising December
When instead of the promise of winter’s chill
Comes the wonder of summer’s thrill
And the newly birthed cry their newborn songs
In a sound that is heard all around the world
Of new life, new hope, and victory untold
As My Hand does something
Never done before
When the golden honey of My Rains of Hope
Showers down on this Sweetest November...
So come and rest your weary head, My Child
In the Son, who loves you most!
See, Winter’s blast didn’t come to last
Alas! It’s become but a dream surpassed
Purified by fire, you have come up higher
Across the Sea of the Promise beyond
For, the yokes of yore couldn't hold back Love
And, like midnight’s black, are now fading fast
Shattered formless beneath My Foot.
______________________
James 5:7-8 (TPT) "Meanwhile, brothers and sisters, we must be patient and filled with expectation as we wait for the appearing of the Lord. Think about the farmer who has to patiently wait for the earth’s harvest as it ripens because of the early and latter rains. So you also, keep your hopes high and be patient, for the presence of the Lord is drawing closer."
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He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside streams o f clear water;
He restores my soul...
Psalm 23:2-3
Photo credit: Mina Mimbu
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