When morning pours through Mercy’s doors
And bathes the dark in waves of gold
As the scepter of daily wars
Is firmly placed into our hold
Where a new tint in Time has dawned
Tell me then,
How will we respond?
How will we respond?
When what we had is laid to rest
And we are left with what remains
Where what we have renders its quest
Before it slips to Bygone plains
Never to vex or tease the eye
Tell me then,
How will we reply?
How will we reply?
When what across yon shore breaks free
And what we newly see takes shape
As it flows into history
Where only echoes can escape
As breath-by-breath we near death’s pact
Tell me now,
How will we react?
How will we react?
© Janet Martin
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Matt. 6:34
We should give our best to what is, because
soon what is will be what was!
Future-present-past, a seamless cast
That does not pause
