Creation
That day, when there was not a day, but Time
Was on the verge of stepping on the stage,
The host of heaven held its holy rime
To see the Word on history’s first page.
When all was naught, the sudden glory shown.
Awe struck. They gasped, and emptied wonder’s purse.
Their shout and song reached heaven’s golden throne,
Crescendos washing baby universe.
The ages pass; I come into the scene.
With cues, asides, I have my tiny part.
The things which come before me I can glean;
I reap the wonders for the human heart.
The watchers watch me now. When morning wakes,
They see I see the sun. The splendor spreads
Like floods of paint, and pools in yonder lakes
Of orange sky-puddles, purple clouds, and reds.
I marvel at the scene, spectacular!
The angels think of what they can’t forget
And speak of me in my vernacular,
With laughs, “He ain’t seen nothing yet.”
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photo by Dez Pain at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mVErmjU/Spiral+Galaxy
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.
‘The watchers watch me now.’ Love this beautifully crafted poem, Dennis, for all its wisdom and wit!
Thank you!