Calm Is The Morn...

 Yesterday Morning...

 This morning...

Calm is the morn from future rent

A beaming trace of He where none

Have seen the Light that lights the sun

And contends with man’s discontent

The universe His order heeds

Man’s will seems disposed to oppose

The hand that bends the bud with rose

And fathers mercy for his needs

How doth one teach the heart to trust

Or fathom soul’s eternity

Where none can decipher or see

Save He who forms this rebel-dust

…and splays across seasons of time

Morn over morn, from nail-scarred lathe

He presses grace to messy faith

And cups the ladder that we climb

We like to behold with the eye

It goes against man’s nature so

To trust the Unseen and let go

Of what we deem would satisfy

This mist we kiss then reminisce

Often remiss without intent

No wistful wish can circumvent

Or deter from its Promises

The spectrum of infinity

No one can grasp or understand

The earth is like a speck of sand

Pulsing with Immortality

Calm is the morn from future gleaned

And hinged to Eon’s Ever-tide

Where years will yield their prize and pride

And Soul from dust-cajole is weaned

Then teach us to number each day

Lest, when we touch Mercy, nail-scarred

This dust-to-dust is caught off guard

Oh, God forbid it ends this way

© Janet Martin