The nights fast are casting a daytime heat
like the spring-time days being left behind,
and the forecast days with sweltering beat
move in as the approaching corner-wind
breezes us around from May into June.
The world sizzles with ill-will and tension
of the pandemic, racist words, the clutch
of its bowels, and regurgitates much
as musings of impending peril loom.
Politics and religion do not mix,
and world-wide pain may not leave any room
for giving "home-need" the generous fix
being planned and debated turn-by-turn,
eliminating clauses--pages burn.
Can edges of words be softened a bit?
Can words of care be increased just a whit?
Can the world respect each living "on" it.
Rumors of wars and murders in the news
abide in half of that printed to ruse.
Pacts and treaties with the courtroom tableau
side-by-side--striving to be "in the know."
Reporters writing words of a new shade
describing a world with a dull old blade
being brandished about as "sharp and new;"
but "shiny" is not what comes into view.
History is known to repeat itself
because it ne'er sees its past on the shelf.
Words, looking back to one century ago,
describe kindred winds blowing 'neath the bough.
Ne'er, in this hundred years, would we dare dream
of a rerun betide, but it doth seem
self-same ugliness abounds--eyes agleam.
It seems most have left the premise of faith--
trust, hope, and love at the center of it.
Some rounded its edges with human lathe,
clearing Creation away from the midst
as Creator sits alone up on high,
blinking back tears from the edge of His eye.
If we want to be filled with peace and joy
it may be time to renew an old ploy.
Man is not resolving old doubts this time--
just as hopes launched on that long ago road
were mere mortal attempts at latitude hold.
Most hold the belief of eternal freedom
marching to the beat of a distant drum.
Man thinks he knows best how to deal with pain,
the best way to yield both profit and gain--
I ask for faith, hope, and love to sustain.
It looks like a big sandcastle party
to which everyone in town came to play.
All the best artisans wielding form free,
producing masterpieces at the bay.
Come one, come all--bid for your selection--
but leave in place so everyone might see
Sandcastles preserved--a great collection--
made to please our Creator, displayed free.
No earthly artisan has created
such beauty--eloquence--to e're compare
alongside wind-blown displays He vetted
in the blink of an eye and time to spare.
I am ever amazed at the beauty God created when He formed this earth and our universe. The love with which He has touched so many places has lent itself to the greatest artwork ever molded from a piece of clay, thought into being at the stroke of a pen, or wielded with such perfect hue from the paint upon His fingers.
Then He gifted it to me and to you. Some of us marvel in reverent awe as others take for granted each day and all the beauty it entails. How can anyone view formations like those pictured above and dispute the hand of God?
I am ever blessed to be able to view locations around the world on my computer, and the awe I hold for each could only be increased by being there in person. What a gift God has granted to man whom He created in His own image. Just as He is a Spirit being, so are we–Spirit beings–in His image. From the moment of conception, our bodies churn out cells to fill specific rolls. We do not have to manage or manipulate this process in any way other than to care for it as we would His temple–the most Holy of Holies.
When I first saw the picture of this rock formation–Bisti/De-Na-Zin Wilderness in New Mexico, United States of America–my thoughts drew a scene where families created sandcastles at the beach, then solidified their form for wind and sand to smooth out the rough edges. What a beautiful vision to behold!