Poetry

---

Listen, listen, listen, to the rain drops fall, it's the quiet time!
as the elements weave their magic,
the soul is indeed soothed, Seeing nature at its work,
it's the quiet time!
How do the tiny rain drops stay aloft?
til a time assigned, to float gently down,
making tiny rivulets upon the windows,
Seeing in awe this simple, but wonderful phenomenon,
causing wonder,
it's the quiet time.
Hear their soft conversation, known, understood by these tiny messengers,
it's their purpose, to bless the hearing of those who listen,
to whisper of things,
delivered for all to hear, yet, jealously guarded, to insure the purity,
of informative content, healing the mind,
with peace, those of
the "quiet time", feeling the subtle impulse
to be at rest, with the elemental forces, Deity sent,
gratefully accepted, beneficially believed,
all other emotions, subdued, It's the quiet time!
The rose raises its royal head,-- to see
from whence comes this velvet dressing, so refreshing,
the pure liquid, bathing, cleansing,
polishing the natural beauty of, the wealth of the earth's fruits,
leaving a glow of health's kiss,
it's quiet time!
The sun peeks out upon this misty splendor, briefly,
then hastily retreats,
as it determines the time is not yet, to,
dry the eyes of nature's products of beauty,
awed by the sight of,
a sister element at it's best, in a grandiose treatment of the ornate,
majestic fruits of the joint efforts, of the Supreme,
the orderly fashion of the subordinate,
life sustaining,
movements of those forces,
that bless, improve, caress
yet move on,
so as to make way for the others in order
to insure quality in creative treatment-
it's quiet time!
all disorders, silenced by the positive appearance of,
that which, brings order, out of chaos,
by the element that patiently probes the forces of clamor and din,
decisively supplant them with,
the quiet time.
The tremendous, sometimes unnoticed, invaluable tiny rain drop,
So helpless, seemingly insignificant, seen as errant,
yet whose destiny, to cure the earth of many ills,
whose advent, not prevented by
man's so called technology, advance as it maybe,
powerless to prevent, if so inclined,
the flight,
the mission,
the accomplishment
the order
the pattern
The pre-ordained arrangement
of the life giving quality, of
the inconspicuous, "rain drop",
of such, is fashioned our
"Quiet time." Listen- Listen- Listen
by
www.lancessoulsearching.com

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE