like a Monet, i would say,
or a steeple at a church,
two curves drawn in long ballets,
landing gently as a bird.
a laugh ringing late at night,
a pillow by my head,
thoughts of God, and thoughts finite,
and of children soon ahead.
and so I saw her standing there -
as beauty in beauty disguised.
her face was soft and fair,
and faith shone in her eyes.
Today I walked again outside,
though the cold was hard to bear.
I walked to where the snow can rise,
and said a solemn prayer.
And whispered to a bird a song,
and taught it notes to sing.
I know he’ll pass this song along,
when the lilies rise with spring.
In these pages, I hope you hear,
a song of God’s love for you –
that this page, if pulled near,
would cause your feet to move.
For this is my cry, this is my cross:
(whether it be thought good or bad),
to show a world, so tired and lost,
the dancer isn’t mad.
So today you made a “mistake”?
I see but one more path,
change humans seem to hate,
as we hope the present will not pass.
We dream of stars of our design -
“the future of our dreams”,
but paths diverge and climb,
and rarely end where they once seemed.
So it is oft in hidden days,
when we reach the stars God threw,
when we look back on today,
and just know – He always knew,
that any “mistake” was but a gift,
that was destined from the start,
which met His end and fit,
into His designs for our heart,
when we find that the glory of a life,
is oft made with big “mistakes”,
as we learned to revel in His light,
and to love the change we hate.
My friend, it is a winter’s day,
and though you shake with cold,
soon again you’ll feel the rays,
the Sun alone, above extols.
For until mid-summer’s morn’,
light will grow every day and soar,
so each day will be more warm,
than the one that came before.
