Poetry

Time

The ticking hands of time
move slowly.
That for which we wait,
still tarries.
The promised healing
yet unseen.
The ticking hands of time
move slowly still.

Eternity awaits,
do we realise where we are?
Glorious in-between.
Glimpses of unfailing mercy,
miracles abound.
Monotony tries to blind us with its
daily grind.
Settle for the lesser, the common,
status quo.

The ticking hands of time
move slowly.
That for which we wait,
still tarries.
The promised unveiling
yet unseen.
The ticking hands of time
move slowly still.

Shadows fall
upon rocky narrow paths.
Darkness looms
it seems the stage is set,
eternity unveiled.
Glimpses of that day,
we wait,
Glory to be revealed.

The ticking hands of time
move slowly.
That for which we wait,
still tarries.
The promised return
yet unseen
The ticking hands of time
move slowly still

In the in-between,
we linger.
Our company growing,
a multitude.
The invitation resounds
“Welcome home”.
Eternity is waiting,
breathless anticipation.

The ticking hands of time
move slowly.
That for which we wait
still tarries.
The abundant harvest
still reaping.
The ticking hands of time
move slowly still.

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2 thoughts on “Time

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