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 We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
| How doth yon poet ply his craft with "thees" and "thous" and weirdsome words? Methinks some reader often laughed at things now said with mos absurd. He talks of Jesus' worthy Name, though many do not find Him so. "Anachronism!" That's the blame, a social misfit rare to know. One Simon Peter skulking near His Master's trial warmed for cold, denied his Friend for very fear, though Supper's fealty was quite bold. "Thou wast with Him in Garden, Sir." "I know not what thou sayest to me." "'Tis true the thing I now infer for list. Thy speech bewrayeth thee." "That's very lie. Now, with an oath, I raise my voice to him deny!" How oft do I with nasal growth deny my Lord with silence by? When in some situation dire, I'm asked, "Do know thee, Jesus Christ? Some say His Name is lofty, higher, The Son of God, Who paid the price!" Will life per this be on the line? Will Truth be spoke, if life they take? Is silent wisdom always fine? Doth judgment fall, if silence break? Quite out-of-place, and off the mark are testimonies lived in Book, but words of honor often spark, that fires of trial be not forsook. line count: 32 poetry form: quatrains of iambic tetrameter lines prompt number: 7 (March 7th, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on March 7th, 2026      |
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