Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Where authors and readers come together!

My father is very ill in a hospital. His son reflects ...

Tree of Life, its trunk of broad girth,

Profusion of leaves anew from peaking buds bring ...

Resplendency burst forth come season’s spring ...

Turn back to reflections of innocent mirth.

I gaze
at his beacon once time ago brightly fierce.

Strength his tower o’er broad horizons seen.

Fade youthful verdancy from needst thou wean,

dusk dims its light where once the fog did pierce.

tosses this storm a gale,

Cleave tightly to thine anchor’s chain.

Lest the tumultuous sea in calmness feign,

steer ship’s rudder toward windward sail.

the firmament for His infinity unknown,

accept thy portion with gladness by night and by day.

May faith’s compass guide thee, reap that thou may,

content thyself with what thou hast already sewn.

Alan D. BuschJuly 2008

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