I am not my own — I speak His will,
A vessel chosen, calm and still.
Not by fame, nor pride I rise,
But by the power that parts the skies.
His breath flows through my humbled lips,
With every word, the darkness rips.
I echo truth, I shatter lies,
A trumpet sound that never dies.
In secret places, I once hid,
But now I speak what He once did.
From broken clay, He formed my voice,
To shout His love, to cry, rejoice.
I'm not a prophet by man’s crown,
But when He speaks, I write it down.
A message bearer, soul to soul,
Each line He whispers makes me whole.
So when you hear this voice of flame,
It’s not my glory, not my name.
I’m just His echo, bold and free—
A mouthpiece of eternity.
©heavenecho
H