Poetry

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Life consists of many markers,
events which line our path.
Some seem to make our journey darker,
others give us a reason to laugh.

Marker one was the day of your birth.
Eager hands and hearts awaited you.
Naked you came into life's time to surf.
Empty pages of markers yet to accrue.

One by one, other markers came to pass,
defining the type of person you became.
Events blurring together, going so fast.
Speeding onward to the end of life's game.

Another marker sets in a city of stone.
Only name and dates does it reveal.
All is quiet as the mourners have moved on.
The body resting under the marker on the hill.

The final marker can be the best of all,
the claim that Jesus has made on your soul;
will now let you hear the final trumpet call,
awaking you to walk the streets of gold.

Death is one marker you need not fear.
Just let Jesus take the sting away.
Make Him your marker while He is near.
Have nothing to fear on His judgement day.

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