Seasons turn their colors,
Time slips through our fingers…
…sand surrounding a sea of breathing vapors
Blinking in and out of this realm…
I know a place where time is fabled.
Those entrapped on this blue-green sphere,
Encased in tents of dust,
Believe it to be the salve for any
But it is not.
Time has not bound my grief like a tourniquet,
Nor quieted my cries like the icy cold of a numbing needle.
It has only proven that those made in an image divine are made to long — and must long —
For a Comfort far greater than even a century of summers
“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” -James 4:14
“Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me.” -John 12:26