Poetry

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Sometimes I simply wonder,
How the world can be so cold?
Watching heartaches roll on by,
feeling very old.

Sometimes very weary.
Sometimes very drained.
but always,
When there‘s no strength left,
You raise me up again.

Sometimes, I just don‘t understand,
the reasons for such madness.
Love is such an easy way,
to rid the world of sadness.

Sometimes, it seems impossible,
to my Lord I cry.
and always,
You are there in me,
beckoning, 'please try.’

and so,
I’m left with ‘Sometimes.’
Sometimes a seed will grow.
My Father moves the mountains,
all I can do is sow.

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Matthew 17:20,
'If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.'

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