Aware of Who is Reading...Thursday Thoughts

Time splays its parchment, still as air

Beneath the plight of human need

The ink of heart and soul spills where

One, its Giver attends, to read

Our penmanship, not misconstrued

Spells to His gaze both hope and fear

As He, so oft misunderstood

Lays page on page beneath our tear

And while before mute, pagan gods

Its seems that multitudes amass

To veil with noise what man applauds

Yet Death, oh, Death will soon surpass

…and while it seems many forget

That what they write is read by He

Who Holy, Holy, Holy bled

Redemption once, at Calvary

…and while it seems the age of words

 Profits a man, if he can spell

Regardless of what under-girds

The hand that writes what tongue won’t tell

…still, He who places air on air

Is never far or undeterred

But sees the faithful few aware

Of Who is reading every word

© Janet Martin

***

The pen reflects Time

Spent in prayer.

The hand a mouth, 

The tongue, a lair

Pray we who write 

On Time a bit

Remember Who 

Is reading it 

***

Beyond the readers we see is One we cannot...

Nothing escapes Holy Love, not one jot

So, lest we think we write with no reader

We would be wise to reconsider

***

My son, do not let wisdom and understanding out of your sight, preserve sound judgment and discretion; Prov.3:21

(inspired by a middle-of-the-night conversation with my son)

Because I Prefer Pie With Apples...weekly wikem

...a light-hearted ditty on arithmeticky..pi, they called it!

It's wikem day. Check out the meaning here

'Because its definition relates to the circle,' wikipedia

I must have been reading while they studied pi

Especially after

The realization

This pi had nothing to do

With apples or cherries

And pastry ration

So I

Pretend-learned instead

With a book in a book

Hoping that Teacher

Wouldn’t look

Because for some reason

Numbers, for me

Never did

Inspire much

Poetry

© Janet Martin

Hope's Core

This constant coming to grips with our mortality

Compels us not to think more highly of ‘me’ than we ought

The shell that we inhabit only temporarily

Houses something we cannot see but should give earnest thought

Ignorance and denial of its presence cannot null

The inevitable of someday, face to face with He

Who breathed into mortal a Soul; this, imperishable

Yet none can expose it by microscopic scrutiny

And should we, cell by cell dissect, this skin and bone dust-tent

Still, none after thorough exam could utter, ‘there it is’

Where half-breath separation between flesh and Soul advent

Should stir a reassessment of the things that fill our days

The Son of God did not lay down His life to save mere flesh

But Deity wore flesh and died to save man's soul; Hope's Core

For death is hell but Life which He gives through His righteousness

Is Heaven in the presence of God's love forevermore

© Janet Martin

For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul? Matt.16:26

Then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living soul. Gen. 2:7

And the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. Eccles.12:7

  

Dusk's Beatitude...

 The red-winged black-birds have returned to their summer-sanctuary, though it is still ice-encased. This bog was a master-piece, showcasing God's handiwork as the sun, soft and soundless slipped from sunset into sunrise somewhere on the other side of the world...

Now day lowers its bars

The rush of it subdued

Where Time's brush, flushed with stars

Dabs dusk's beatitude

...and what we didn't know

Where morning's gilded gong

Awoke Time's forward-flow

Well, God knew all along

Its mystery laid bare

This 'almost yesterday'

Is sealed from touch, save where

Nothing but thought can stray

Here on dusk's brink where pink

To gold, to blue runs rife

It causes one to think

About the wink called Life

Janet~

This is sort of a sequel to this morning's post...and yes, dusk can testify to a few jobs completed including a re-finished desk:) sort-of...I think, after looking at it in pictures I'm going to tone it down a bit...I'm sort of mourning the fact that I covered that beautiful wood with this!!

Ephemeral More

Gold-crowned, Time’s gifted grace

From outer-regions beams

And pours in dazzling streams

Through night’s ebony space

Heaven’s laughing ‘hello’

Highlights earth’s beveled sweep

Where we wade, mercy-deep

Into time’s forward flow

…in search of who-can-say

What dusk will testify

Where dawn is flinging wide

The doorway to Today

Time’s thread of gossamer

Spins soft with ether gold

The New across the old

Familiar Stranger

Its smooth-faced sea conceals

The imminence of Past

A tableau ever-cast

On Bygone’s ageless reels

…where God's gold-gilded grace

Extends by moment-score

Man’s ephemeral More

To kiss each up-turned face

© Janet Martin

I'm curious to see if dusk will testify of a few finished projects...namely a desk I am working on for Victoria's freshly painted room!

 

 

 

To Where We Never Part

Inspired by the post and comments of Momentary Tears

'God bless and keep',

For though we weep,

We do not weep in vain.

This parting kiss

The catalyst

To where we meet again

We cannot pry

The ‘what’ or ‘why’

From Mercy’s nail-scarred Hands

This weeping dust

Must meekly trust

In He who understands

…and then one day

He’ll wipe away

These tears that rend the heart

Death’s bitter dread

A stair we tread

To where we never part

© Janet Martin