poeima

Many times You speak,
Across the pages and across our lives we've heard.
Whether calling essence from absence,
Or speaking quietness to storm,
Your voice rumbles and pulses, never silenced.

But life is not always sound,
And looking around, I wonder,
Are we a comedy or tragedy in motion,
The destiny of our lives swirling around an alphabet soup?

In the Word, three times Your finger traced,
Across stone, wall and sand.
Each one to convict, instruct and invite.
But stone crumbles, wall falls, sand is swept away,
And to time, each message is lost.

Though You can wipe the slate, start anew,
You persist to write, choosing the hardest surface,
Redeeming the tragedy of our lives.
Not as one working through a chore,
But as an artist fashioning an epic.
May You not discard until we are complete.

Eph. 2: 10

sč
Singapore, September 14th, 2007