“Glorified art Thou, O Lord my God! Every man of insight confesseth Thy sovereignty and Thy dominion, and every discerning eye perceiveth the greatness of Thy majesty and the compelling power of Thy might. The winds of tests are powerless to hold back them that enjoy near access to Thee from setting their faces towards the horizon of Thy glory, and the tempests of trials must fail to draw away and hinder such as are wholly devoted to Thy will from approaching Thy court.”
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A poem inspired by current events and reflecting on the above quotation.
Field of Trials
Trials continue each combining like dry grass blades scorched by humanity's tears multiplied by sunlight photosynthesised by pain. Tall winds of tests flowing into a field of Midas touch troubles where the rich grow richer from pandemics and everything they touch in danger. Trail your fingers to the feel of grass blades to the sting of water poisoned by colonist's greed more tempests sway volcanoes in the middle of the Pacific islands going under volcanic ash and tsunamis now ... sharp silences waiting to hear of survivors. Search for the horizon of glory above the tall weeping grass blades above the poisoned and rising waters soft barked trees clothed in hope's synthesis. Green leaves of the tree say 'we are all one look for me beyond the trials I'll help you find your discerning eyes.' June Perkins