Monday, May 26, 2014

Of Vapor Wicks






Who can predict what will fill a new day?
Sorrow and joy interlace
Where one is spilling the other will lay
Its ready tear on our face

Triumph and turmoil; a subtle accord
Celebration aligned with grief
But we cannot conquer or reap the reward
Of another’s unbelief

Prayer is the journey of heart-cry to God
Hope is a Thing, mystical
Wisdom is gained through life’s chastening rod
As we cede Want for God’s will

We cannot force either belief or love
Though we may try to pretend
Sooner or later our choices will prove
What nary a law can defend

Pray that we never become too calloused
Or wizened to thought’s keenest trick
For the battle of life is not won or lost
Until God snuffs its vapor wick

© Janet Martin




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