I've walked among the lilies that bloomed in spring's new birth.
I've hung my head in sorrow as I wiped away the dirt of a few long,
hard lessons traveled on unfamiliar sod.
I've cried the tears of wretched pain to a nameless, faceless God.
Of all the life I've lived 'till now and all that's still to come
I can say with perfect certainty I know that I am loved.
He speaks in silent whispers and his word is always true.
He said, "Life is hard but I am peace
and I will always be with you.
I'll send my spirit in to sweep the pain of yesterday away.
When all is gone, rest well my child.
The cross will still remain.
The ashes flutter to the ground as the last spark disappears.
Now all that's left is a thick dust
signaling the end of another year.
A barren wasteland covered in white remnants of the past.
I walk along still holding on the assurance of my master's plan.
Tomorrow is a mystery, could be anybody's guess.
Will all I have go up in flames or is this part of a greater test?
I'll cling with hope to the one I know who's ways are not my own.
With confidence I'll stand before him boldly at his throne.
When everything has burned to ash and there's nothing left to say,
I cannot see the road ahead but the cross will still remain.
The past and future dance like two lovers on a summer's eve.
Never fully embracing, they drink of time's sweet melody.
They know that when the hour comes they'll finally be as one.
For now they're happy just to serve the one who created them.
For they know that time in all it's seasons will someday pass away.
And when all that's left is the air they breathe
the cross will still remain.
Have no fear, I'm never far away.
When all seems lost, look up my child.
The cross still remains.
copywrite 2005 Sherry Castelluccio
If you wish to contact me regarding this article, please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
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Very beautifully written Sherry! Yes indeed, praise the Lord through it all, "The cross Remains." And even for those dreams and hopes of ours that have all ready gone up in smoke and turned to ashes; He has promised to give us, BEAUTY for ASHES, the OIL of JOY for MOURNING, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.
You have a wonderful gift for writing! In His love, Sharon