Of Life's Sacred and Surreal

today's post,  a first...

 ...sharing, with special permission from my youngest daughter,

an excerpt from her very precious Christmas gift to me last year,

a collection of her poetry and journal snippets,

 glimpses of heart-pieces like only ink allows...

It's been a little while since we were both in our respective corners of the morning

but today is a perfect reflection of this...

Wow! yup...poetry plunked, plucked, pried and prayed from the schmozzle of living...

often with reminders, no matter what season we are in...to Cherish!

because seasons are so brief, each with a beauty of their own!

Whatever season we are in no matter when or where

Time seems to slip through our skin in whispers thin as air

And suddenly we turn to see what once seemed long and slow

Now, pictures in a gallery where echoes ebb and flow

Nobody, no matter how strong can keep the tide at bay

That runs through us like sea-song as it washes years away

As generations roll like soul-filled waves that rise and fall

Prey to the subtle season toll that no shoreline can stall

…reminding us that no matter what season we are in

Time's echo-chimes soon scatter like thistle seeds on the wind

While we learn to savour the full flavour of moment crumbs

Before they slip forever to what each season becomes

...before the Giver of each life retrieves what seasons lease

As a momentous Shuttle weaves the ilk of Time's increase

Still slipping through our fingers soft as silk yet hard a steel 

Leaving a sense that lingers, of life's sacred and surreal

© Janet Martin

The same feeling that inspires many a poem and song

like this one...

Slipping through my Fingers 

By humility and the fear of the Lord

are riches and honour and life

Prov.22:4