Handiwork Poem by Trevor Schulte

Two flowers sway in the wind
to the breath that speaks.
The beauty surpasses customized destruction
brought by the fault of man.
There they rock, back and forth,
no worries, no regret,
no mistakes, no threat;
pure innocence to the real truth.
These flowers show more sincerity
in their short-lived existence
than many show in man-made mistakes.
This handiwork from the Immortal above,
was shaped with the feeling of love.
The beauty found in simplistic things
breaks all barriers that condemn us.
Yet here we stand, oblivious to these facts.
Must we wallow in such pain,
in search of peace so easy to attain,
and in this passing confound,
we'll forever remain?
Oh, just to pass by an opportune moment
missing the power of His work
guided through this fault
with a prided smirk.
Or do we relinquish our superbia
to the sound that shakes the leaves;
conforming in righteousness to simplicity's value
as to pick the flower,
feel the power,
and the handiwork of God,
ultimately empower.