The Eastern Sky Poem by Myrtle Thomas

The image we seek fades like the morning mist
never exactly as the reality
pulled fragments from broken lives
remnants of the heart, leftover dreams
sweet as honey the memories are framed
Places and events instilled until we perish
we are the flowers of the masters hand
the breath of Jehovah God in our nostrils
Then alive we became a living soul.

We love unconditionally from our birth
to know the eyes and hands of family.
Lost treasures pure as gold, that illuminated our soul
then in the evening of our life we are called out
through the door of death returned to the master's mind

In life we are embedded in the heart and minds
of loved ones, as they too await the Spring time of resurrection
only now a short time until the flowers will bloom again once more
The eastern sky will usher in his Majesty The King Of Kings and Lord of Lords
and his flowers will bloom again in his glory, to stand on earth through out eternity.