We’ve spent lifetimes dreaming, working, consumed, passing the things that matter.
All that time, in just the blink of an eye, and we are gone.
Just a few moments to show whose spirit we embody, and then earthy silence.
The twirl of a little girl in a dress, and we return to dust.
Like heavy fog on a cool morning, we disappear just as the sun begins her climb, unable to tarry.
Leaves of Oak which tremble in the fall breeze, a fresh gust, and we are scattered.
A tender blade, we spring up fresh and green, only days later to wither and die.
Our beauty, stunning though it may be, is only a brief glimpse of eternity.
Moments from now, we will be old and feeble, faces spotted and creased, teeth there or not.
But our spirits will be listening, ready, as a seed in the ground, for the first rains of spring.
Waiting to burst into life, and race toward the Light, dancing wildly at the return of our King.
Come, Lord Jesus.