They fall away in gold and gray; laughter’s sweet paradise
Yields to the touch of sorrow’s clutch, yet ever morning
skies
Ignite to brush to past the hush of never-more-will-be
See, on the air unfurls a stair to opportunity
Ah, yet this morn will soon adorn our thought and nothing
more
The blushing tide of dawn to night sweeps years across Time’s
shore
Where seasons merge in soundless splurge; its bittersweet
regale
A filament of moments lent to living’s tick-tock trail
This madrigal of trip-and-fall; of holding-letting go
Amalgamates, a weightless weight of testing joy and woe
Where dusk to dawn new triumph spawns; gossamer over-lay
Of faith and fear and gilded tear soon to be yesterday
Do not despair, God hears our prayer and bids us to be wise
Lest tainted sweetness of deceit should fool our hungry eyes
This morn to night is but the flight to Love’s Epitome
Where time regales a sacred trail to God’s eternity
© Janet Martin
Sometimes it is easy to get wrapped up in moments,
forgetting the Big Picture…
…
Thank you for the exquisitely crafted reminder; we live life in the foreshadow of "Love's Epitome". - Cyndy
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