Every Moment Holy...

This poem was inspired by the title of the book below,given to me by some dear friends following the loss of.It is filled with profound and comforting liturgies offaith and encouragement This is not some hum-drum duty drawn to vex man’s days with strifeNor simply four-season-beauty doomed to earth’s titanic urn... This is more than days tugged slowly from the wounds of love and lifeThis is every moment holy laden with so much to learn... This is not some hum-drum duty drawn to vex man’s days with strifeNor simply four-season-beauty doomed to earth’s titanic urnThis is more than days tugged slowly from the wounds of love and lifeThis is every moment holy laden with so much to learn This is more than lilt of hours, bent with what no one can snareOr a door to Bygone’s bowers that no squire can bolt or barMore than both lofty and lowly, climbing Time’s ethereal stairThis is every moment holy, no matter who-where we are This is more than Yore’s momentum tripping through rooms of the heartMore than dust-to-dust’s decorum or satire’s mean comedyMore than skin-graft sagging slowly on frames fated from the startThis is every moment holy like notes in life’s symphony Every moment mercy-measured, sparkling from a fount of graceEvery-moment to be treasured like a jewel of great worthEvery moment like a flicker on a wick we cannot traceOr like tincture in a picture, we cannot behold on earth This is more than hope grope-groping at straws of positive thoughtOr Destiny’s downward sloping to be swallowed up by sodThis is more than laughter, lament, more than favors trouble-fraughtHoly, holy, every moment drawing mortal back to God © Janet Martin Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow. You, indeed, have made my days as handbreadths, and my lifetime as nothing before You. Truly each man at his best exists as but a breath. Selah For, “All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall,