Some weeks are harder
than others.
Some weeks are days
filled with fun.
Some weeks have time
spent with mothers.
Some weeks are spent
in the sun.
No one can guess how
it happens.
No one is sure what
it means that life in the progress of living
Will follow the path
that it seems to be the way where our dreams lie,
Or fit into some
Godly plan, or otherwise be filled with chaos
A mystery for woman
or man.
We think that we have
the power
To keep things within
our control,
And yet often fail to
consider
What price, what
incredible toll
It takes to be boss
of the present,
Each moment of each
passing day,
As though we had
magical power
To make things go
only our way.
The truth is that we
are like bobbers,
Riding the waves and
the tide,
Feeling that we’re
really something,
Filled with
inordinate pride.
Only to finally
discover
When something grabs
hold of the hook
That we are sucked
under the surface,
Discover our whole
world’s been shook.
Much better to see
how God’s mercy
Can our thoughts of
power release,
To live as God’s
children in freedom,
Accepting each day in
God’s…
Peace,
Alex
