This Bit of String...

This bit of string to which we cling

But cannot tell how near or far

Until it slips beyond this blip

Where all of living’s moments are

Does not waft, soft somewhere aloft

In forgotten obscurity

But it is laced through Love’s embrace

And held by Hands we cannot see

Today the dawn had pinned upon

Its blue lapel, a shiny moon

Before the sun had quite begun

To climb its stair of air to noon

Yet He who guides the vaulted tides

And sets in motion, everything

Holds carefully and tenderly

This bit of string to which we cling

Time’s awesome thread of hope and dread

Trembles with triumph and despair

Its seamless surge where moments merge

Shortens the span twixt Here and There

Its quick click, click is not a trick

To mock us in its dying sting

Oh no, we climb this thing called Time

To meet the One who holds the string

© Janet Martin

It's a blurry-flurry morning...