Praises by Shirley Anne
One Solution
I look out at the swollen creek-
green, murky, dark and deep.
Thinking, that only yesterday,
the cold, dark water, was far away!
The power surge, which made it grow-
came from God, in "Nature's Show"!
Never worked out in a "Three Act Play",
life goes on from day to day.
Damns and tunnels, careen the way,
but, no one knows, when they'll give way.
We have each moment, pressed in time,
all worked out, by those "Divine".
How we use them, our's alone;
wasteful or watchful, what we condone.
Our lives are riddled with bullet holes.
Unexpected? No one knows!
Standing on a shaded street,
visit neighbors, new friends, we meet.
Each one has a tale to tell,
some are ill, and, some are well.
But, in each heart, a desire seeks-
to find, the meaning; of "life---complete".
Words are hurled, as rocks to glass,
hurting, staining; unpolished brass.
Each one carries a pack of rocks,
hurls them back, to spread the pox!
Outward signs, of deadly sins,
Only, God knows what's within.
Where's the simple act so bold--
of carrying the load of a hurting soul?
Simple hugs, and simple words-
from long ago, can still be heard.
"Love thy neighbor, as thyself."
So, put the hatred on the shelf,
and, find the way of "light", yourself.
One soul fixed. Now pass it on-
a brand new day, a brand new dawn-
welcoming, the sun's sweet rays,
while, praying for more blessed days!
Shirley Ruksznis Young @2005
green, murky, dark and deep.
Thinking, that only yesterday,
the cold, dark water, was far away!
The power surge, which made it grow-
came from God, in "Nature's Show"!
Never worked out in a "Three Act Play",
life goes on from day to day.
Damns and tunnels, careen the way,
but, no one knows, when they'll give way.
We have each moment, pressed in time,
all worked out, by those "Divine".
How we use them, our's alone;
wasteful or watchful, what we condone.
Our lives are riddled with bullet holes.
Unexpected? No one knows!
Standing on a shaded street,
visit neighbors, new friends, we meet.
Each one has a tale to tell,
some are ill, and, some are well.
But, in each heart, a desire seeks-
to find, the meaning; of "life---complete".
Words are hurled, as rocks to glass,
hurting, staining; unpolished brass.
Each one carries a pack of rocks,
hurls them back, to spread the pox!
Outward signs, of deadly sins,
Only, God knows what's within.
Where's the simple act so bold--
of carrying the load of a hurting soul?
Simple hugs, and simple words-
from long ago, can still be heard.
"Love thy neighbor, as thyself."
So, put the hatred on the shelf,
and, find the way of "light", yourself.
One soul fixed. Now pass it on-
a brand new day, a brand new dawn-
welcoming, the sun's sweet rays,
while, praying for more blessed days!
Shirley Ruksznis Young @2005
