We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
Some will travel come what may. Some commit and then obey. Some will stubborn day after day to write some pages without display. To find my way to Writer's Rock, preventing things, which oft would block the words from building up my stock is where my deeds convince my talk. A place of safety on a cliff gives peace to heart and hope to lift from this lone room, I must ne'er drift. Within the storm His care is swift. The lightning slashed as thunder roared. My peace was firm, and din ignored. My daily writing all restored by discipline, that me implored. I write within the bookish realm with Christ, the Pilot at the helm, Who flies above the highest elm, no enemies could overwhelm. The Logos is my Rock to save. His daily words my heart still craves. I write from fulness in great waves by gift to me, that he once gave. The wise man builds quite firm his home. Commitment's choice prevents him roam. The daily pieces, life's long tome, while breath nerves arm from final loam. This Rock, word's home within the dash to glory build apart from cash. Though money comes from book's first splash, the greatest worth is lasting cache. by Jay O'Toole on December 2nd, 2019 |