In the ancient echoes of sacred scrolls,
Where syllables shimmer like celestial gold,
Yahshua emerges—a name whispered by stars,
A bridge between realms, where grace unbars.

Yah, the breath of eternity, the cosmic hum,
The One who spins galaxies, the morning drum,
And Shua, the whisper of salvation’s kiss,
The promise fulfilled, the dawn’s sweet bliss.

In the wilderness of souls, Yahshua walks,
His sandaled feet imprinting grace on rocks,
He weaves miracles from dust and tears,
A symphony of redemption through the years.

Yahshua, the healer of broken wings,
The carpenter of hope, the song that sings,
His eyes hold galaxies, His touch mends time,
A love unmeasured, a truth sublime.

He walks the shores where waves confess,
“I AM,” whispers the sea, the wind, the cypress,
And in His gaze, the universe aligns,
Yahshua—the Alpha, Omega—the Divine.

So let us breathe His name, a sacred psalm,
Yahshua, the compass guiding us home,
In syllables spun from stardust and grace,
The Savior’s whisper—a boundless embrace.