The heavens declare the glory of God,
But not many may stop to listen.
The stars and moon call out and croon,
But who looks up to see them glisten?
A son of Adam, by work still plagued,
Toils diligently and long.
Though this work he would not choose,
It grows him strong.
At the end of the day, he goes his way
Seeking starlight and peace.
With upturned face, he is embraced by grace
And finds his soul's release.
New courage is he given,
And strength for another day.
He wakes next morn with focus and desire,
Still dreaming with feet planted firmly aground.
He has not lost hope; no, he has hope to spare
By heaven his sonship is bound.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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