I’m lying in the summer grass. Above me the sky appears as if the heavens are opening. Perhaps brilliant marshmallow clouds behold some greater being, a creator with vision and design? There has to be more to humanity than our randomness in the world. I think that we all have a place, a reason, a purpose. We aren’t accidental and are made specifically to be ‘us.’
It’s a relief the hot sun is blocked by the clouds but I can see the light peeking through as if the sky has provided me an inkling of celestial luminescence. But maybe the sky is only the sky and I’m personifying my beliefs and feelings? But then, maybe faith and the existence of God is demonstrated most superbly by the the earth, nature, and tiny glimpses of gloriousness seen lying in the grass.
“When I think of eternal, I think there isn’t much that is eternal, at least not on this earth. When I wrote this prompt, I believe I was thinking how even though OctPoWriMo is coming to an end, our words are forever – what we wrote during this month and beyond. What does eternal mean to you?” ——
“Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life.” –John 5:24
Time on earth is done,
When my body is only,
An Empty vessel.
Then shall eternity —
Begin; time will not matter.
For all those gone on.
Time on earth, linear,
It’s hard imagining.
What forever is,
What it looks like and feels like,
Who the maker is?
Death is frightening,
Even in sleep, will it hurt?
Where does our soul go?
This is why I think,
Believing in God is wise,
We can worry less.
Perhaps worry not —
At all; because we know what —
The otherside will bring.
Many say we’re wrong,
There’s no heaven, there’s no hell.
I learned fear of God.
Not that we should be —
Afraid of benevolent —
King; but his word speaks.
Gives us hope for life,
Eternal in Jesus dying for —
Everything done wrong.
We’re not perfect and —
We never will be, we can’t
Keep the Ten Commandments.
Fulfilling God’s law,
Impossible to achieve,
So he sent Jesus.
He hung on a cross,
Cruxifician painful, bled.
He died went to Hell.
Defeated death and the grave,
So with him remain.
When our death comes there —
Is no sting, because those who —
Have faith, believe — live.
That is eternity,
Heaven with God, better than —
Our wildest dreams.
Forgiveness of sin,
Becoming perfect beings,
Paradise for real.
Thank you for following me for #OctPoWriMo. Sorry, I’m behind on my usual prompts! I will catch up and am following a new themed daily prompt for November. Stay tuned 🙂
1. The astronaut stared at the ethereal painting until time dissolved around her, visions and gradations of colour enthralling her in their vise; tears ran down her cheeks, floating with no gravity to push them down.
2. How fantastic and brilliant was the artist to create such a bright and vivid picture; to catch the flares of fire from the sun burning, and the bright blue tendrils, wispy and trailing around the earth appearing more like solar storms than the oceans and clouds of the planet.
3. What was even more captivating, was the artist Himself, a being infinite in wisdom, mercy, and grace; a designer with vision, who within his wisdom devised such an inspiring and beautiful creation as earth, which teamed with diverse and intelligent life; the view from space was so heart-stopping, it made the astronaut sob.
And now for our (optional) prompt. Today’s prompt comes to us from Gloria Gonsalves, who also suggested our prompt for Day Seven. Today, Gloria challenges us all to write a poem in honor of Earth Day. This could be about your own backyard, a national park, or anything from a maple tree to a humpback whale. Happy writing!
For more information please see NaPoWriMo. The poem form is Etherees, repeated, and turned upside down, and written as they are.
Calling her Mother, created in beginning,
Adoration is hers, our provider,
Gods hands formed, but yet she falters,
He said be her caregiver,
Taking more then we’re meant,
Using her until she —
Is broken, torn,
Forgetting our place,
Nurture her as she,
Nurtures her caretakers,
Ignorance destroys beauty,
Creator so lovingly beheld and,
Let us name earth’s creatures — disappearing.
Don’t forget, protect earth, greed consumes her.
Through thousands, perhaps, millions of years past,
I thought about a time when I would no longer be alive; I could be young or I could be old when I die.
Will my skin be wrinkled, thin like rice paper, with age spots where the sun took his tole. Or smooth in youth, ended early.
I could have sickness early or later on, as my great-grandmother in her mid-nineties. She died of leukaemia.
Yet her son, my Grandpa, left this world only weeks later, emphysema, the price for years smoking.
But my Dad’s cousin was only thirty when she brushed my blond hair and I saw her never again, the cancer having gone too far.
My other grandfather died young, he didn’t make it until retirement. His heart couldn’t handle it; he lived a hard life.
When I am a corpse, don’t let me rest in a coffin. Burn me to ashes and return me to the dust of the earth.
Don’t let children poke me, see how rigid my body is. Don’t let my corpse be the last thing my family and friends remember of me.
If I die young, I’ll try to be brave if I look death in the face; but maybe he’ll take me in an instant and there will be no more mourning or pain.
Please don’t sing too many hymns at my funeral, don’t wear only black, sing praise songs and country songs; sing pop tunes and rock ballads.
Don’t make me out to be a saint or have a processional of cars. Have a happy affair and let people who knew me remember me as they want.
If you want to know my ‘dream funeral.’ I think it would be a party. A bonfire on the beach or a meeting at comfy restaurant and bar.
If I go before my mother, God take special care of her. Don’t let my brothers forget about her or my Dad.
And if you think it’s morbid to consider one’s mortality. Know we are all moving towards death every day we live.
I live the best I can,saved from sin by a Saviour. But one day I will long to be at rest; the pain of life will disappear. I will go to my heavenly home.
And I will tell you what my one great -grandma said: When I die don’t cry for me.
You see my life was a journey, this earth my temporary home. And I loved my loved ones deeply and I want you all with me when all is said and done.
One day I want to greet you as you breath your last breath. I want you all in heaven. I want you to believe in a Saviour who died for you, and took away all sin.
He defeated death and evil so you could live immortality in heaven. And I know some of you are saying it’s only what I believe.
But, I have faith and faith is being certain. I don’t bet against the maker of every singular thing living and dead; every rock that does not move and every grain of sand. Of every amoeba, horse, dog, or human.
If I were to bet my life, I bet it on God. I pray you do too because you believe I had rational thought. Because you can see a light at the end of the cold dark night of death. Maybe, you will see a cross.