Yes, Truly Our Days Are Numbered
Yes, truly our days are numbered,
God counts them one-by-one,
Despite the nights we've slumbered,
Because this must be done...
We can't stay up both night and day,
Each week, each month, each year
And so, we rest, for come what may,
To sleep we always steer...
Yet God grants dreams to bide the time,
With stories that unfold,
Some meaningful and quite sublime,
Transforming us like gold...
True riches wait, as yet concealed,
God's secrets pouring out,
In parables, truths are revealed,
That simply cast out doubt...
So don't forego your beauty sleep,
For beauty there awaits,
Despite nightmares that make us weep,
What wonders God creates...
Some dream of Heaven all amazed,
Transfixed, agog and glad
And sometimes God is highly praised,
Though leaving makes them sad...
Sometimes I dream that I can fly
Just like the angels do,
Sometimes I dream and question why
I wake up feeling blue...
Sometimes I dream of bygone homes,
Or gardens and their flowers,
Regardless where my spirit roams,
Soon come the waking hours...
Yet greater dreams this spirit blessed,
For I've seen Calvary,
Then love poured down upon my chest,
As warm as love could be...
Reflected from the Cross of Christ,
God's beacon on the hill,
Revealing Jesus sacrificed,
To serve God's perfect will...
His days were numbered just like mine,
He tasted death for all,
Yet His appointment was divine,
That's why God couldn't stall...
Passover Lamb, that's what He was,
He came to pay the price,
One thief believed Christ on His Cross
And thus gained Paradise...
My final chapter still unfolds,
Death waits for me to leave,
As if my mortal flesh it holds
And tugs upon my sleeve...
Yet God decides my final day,
It's numbered in God's hands,
So I'll not leave or pass away
Till I've fulfilled His plans...
Denis Martindale's Other Poems
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