Song #7



Amidst the ebb and flow of life I stand,
Breathing in the springtime that has spread over the land;
No matter if I’ve seen it all before,
The sights and sounds delight me and my spirit soars.

The Artist is at work: He paints a scene
Of April rain and blossoms that splash upon the green;
With rainbows in the puddles of the street
To add contrast to the grayness where earth and sky meet.

I’m walking by myself, but not alone,
For I hear voices from within that are not my own;
And as I walk past fields of grass and grain,
I listen to the chatter of voices in the rain:

“Behold the sun, doing what it does best:
Bathing the earth in golden light, moving east to west;
Its heat is tempered by the breezes’ kiss
That blows and swirls around; it flies from that point to this.

“Behold the flowers dancing with the trees:
All of them provided for, they live a life of ease;
They’re watered by the rivers of the plain
That run to seas (that never fill) and return again.

“All of these things happen year after year,
And every turn of the world brings a laugh and a tear;
So, what else is new?  What else can be done
To make living less boring under light of the sun?”

As I walk onward, the clouds fill the sky,
Growing darker with the doubts of my wondering why;
I battle my thoughts; what strength can I muster?
I can feel that the Earth has lost some of its luster.

In prayer, I ask God to ease my mind,
To take away the depression of my thoughts unkind;
Then the turmoil of my mind fades away,
And the voices speak again; there is a lot to say:

“The sun arises and life begins anew…
All of God’s creatures thrive beneath a sky of blue;
The eagles fly, the robins sing aloud,
And lions roam their vast domains, standing firm and proud.

“The lilies earn no wage, nor spin a wheel…
And yet, are they left naked, without hope or appeal?
The rains fall; with love, the earth is trimmed clean,
With rainbows left as ribbons to decorate the scene.

“Even if what has been will be again,
The wonder of life goes on, never dull or inane;
Seedtime and harvest on earth will endure,
And the miracles of Life will remain fresh and pure.”

While resting in the branches of a tree,
It is with love I marvel at the beauty I see:
The splendor of the mountains far away…
The peaceful valleys giving love and comfort each day.

The shadows of afternoon grow and spread…
The sun mellows in the sky from gold to ruby red;
The early bird seeks refuge in its nest,
And all creation settles down for the evening’s rest.

I turn back to the friendly shores of home,
Content that Heaven’s beauty will shine where’er I roam;
Those voices are now silent, but in thought,
Waiting for a new day to see what it has brought.

© 1986, 2003 by Robert E. Blackwell