Posted on

Day One #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

A young tree yields before the wind, but often we won’t yield to anything, much less the Holy Spirit.  It’s a matter of pride, don’t you know.

That is probably why I stood planted on the street corner, watching the throngs ebbing and flowing.

Unable to say a word of warning or greeting, shuffling from one leg to the other, keeping the blood pumping against the cold. Connecting the dots between that which was brought to remembrance in my mind’s eye to that in my field of view.

Is this the day? Is this the time?

Not yet.

I’ve not heard the call. Nor the sound of the trumpet.

Only the echo to remain ready and to watch the skies.

Advertisements

About rwoz2

Poet, historian, writer for stage and screen. Responder to Jesus (Romans 5:8)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s