Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Of Scribbles and Such


These lines we scribble in life’s dirt
May seem quite insignificant
A transient script of smile and hurt
Across earth’s blue-dot element
An employment of joy and strife
Inscribing chapters of a life

These lines we scrawl in moment-ink
When segregated, may seem trite
A repetition twixt dawn-pink
And velvet vesper-sigh of night
Yet time does not sever its text
Each murmur melding to the next

Our folly-foibles need Love’s grace
For this is not fictitious sod
Of hope and heart-ache’s mute embrace
This is our love-story to God
As tear and sweat-drops spill and spell
Those things we think we do not tell

The subtle imprint of our thoughts
May seem invisible and small
A gathering of jumbled jots
And unintelligible scrawl
But we should pay close, cautious heed
For what we write Someone will read

© Janet Martin

 So then, each of us will give an account of ourselves to God. Rom. 14:12

This morning as I swung my feet over the side of my bed I caught myself thinking ...here we go again, same old, same old ...you know, the 'lunches-laundry-living-loving:) Nothing glamorous but still important! Gently I felt an inner chiding, 'This is no 'same-old'. This day has never passed and will never pass again.Yes, but by the goodness of God we go...Lord, guide our quill.


  1. that's true...I'm so upset. Canyons missing...we don't know what happened,,,

  2. oh dear! I hope you find him. Hugs(())


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