Of Sacred Things...

Where summer’s flash of flowers brims

Where tasseled sash of harvest skims

Then dims like daylight on the west

And strews death’s silence with its jest

Where pedestals and pitfalls vie

Beneath the circle of the sky

Some make a sport of sacred things

Not knowing what the morrow brings

Where everlasting soul of man

Is set in skins of choice and plan

Where supple splash of hours spills

Into a cup of valves and wills

Before the last gasp fills the rift

Between the Giver and the gift

© Janet Martin

 For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, 

but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God.

 For, “All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flowers of the field; 

the grass withers and the flowers fall, 

but the word of the Lord stands forever.” 

And this is the word that was proclaimed to you.

1 Pet.1:23-25