Here, within an earthy cage,
Sorrows whirl--
Tribulations rage.
The Spirit that loves and leads
Fills and holds, beneath.
Faith endures the dark, alone:
The simple wing--
The heavy stone--
Flickering in this final night,
A quiet and tender light.
The heavens stretch; the world presumes--
All contemplate the Maker's plume.
Dust sweeps through each star-- these bones--
It buries everything.
It moans.
So what was cast from the windy Hand?
Just a mortal mote-- a glint of sand?
But flesh consumed in that final deed
Is just a shattered shell--
For a seed.
The little shoot yearns for that One
By whose blood death was undone;
And he that planted, yet is he that reaps--
The One who promised
Tends, and keeps.
All the Earth will shortly shake
Heaven's wheat caught in his rake--
The purposed anguish
In a twinkling-- gone:
Gathered up to resounding song.
--Abby Elizabeth Charland