October 13, 2020
Mad Rush of Life
Drapes of the nightlight stirred
Slowly, letting in the first of golden beams,
Bringing new life to every leaf and skin.
He who bore these streaks,
Rose from His slumber
Coloring the skies with pinks and other hues.
Life was starting slowly,
For the man on his farm,
Toiling and working his day in and out.
Daylight didn’t even break in,
And this man was up getting in for the day,
Rushed for everything,
Complained till nothing,
And always grieved for something.
He never would stop,
Nor would look,
Wore himself out,
For no one to appreciate.
He stood overlooking at his work,
Satisfied as God, when he had made
The little Lamb and the Tiger.
He knew the worth,
He knew it all.
He stood now overlooking at his work,
Piles of sheets and folders,
That drowned his family photo.
What was he doing?
What was its worth?
Both were His men,
Just put in different places.
One did better than the other,
In different ways.
But when the Angels asked,
“Who do you think did better?”
The Almighty replied with a rather sly smile,
“The one who never chased Time,
Rather had Time walking with him.”