Ultimately Poem by Bill Grace

Ultimately



it is upon us
the stars have little sway
our course lies in our day
minutes building into hours and years
we need caution of our tears
yet owning the deeper wounds
lest the spirits of healing
infect present time.

Ultimately it lies in God
that great and silent current
that may or may not grant safety to us,
I do not trust savants
that can be seen and heard
when wisdom dictates
so much more is there
than sense.

The church must play the fool
where prophesy is dead
while far away I see
a distant cross of truth
hear the whimper
of the lives upon it.

Friday, September 19, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: faith
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