Like Glimpses Through a Gate

Psalm 16:11You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. The thrill of February spring was short-lived,...as was the clean up from previous ice-storms,  We woke to a world ensconced in nature's glitz! How oft the Creator consolesEarth's happiness, so full of holes... February is always a struggle for me, poetically-speaking, and this February is no exception, so emotionally demanding/draining with so much local trouble and sorrow,not to mention globally!But hallelujah, God Was, Is, and Ever Will Be in perfect control! We walk by faith, not by sight!2 Cor.5:7 How oft the Creator consolesEarth's happiness, so full of holesWhere grief exacts love’s bitter thornAs dreams are dashed and hearts are torn…and then the morn heaps hope’s buffetAs mercy’s masterpieces splayLike glimpses, through a gate ajarWhere everlasting pleasures are How often our faith could beDisillusioned by tragedyThis, but part and parcel of TimeTethered to weathered season-chimeWhere rhyme and reason could dismissGod’s goodness with betrayal’s kissUntil, like glimpses through a gateHe reminds us of joys that wait How often we could lose our wayIf we relied on logic’s sayWhere wise and fool alike concedeMan’s days are few and full of needBut, the best this world can demandPales, compared to God’s Promised LandGlimpsed through a gleaming gate, agapeWith impressions of its landscape How oft the poet’s flound’ring prayerCould yield to pirates of despairWhere unholy taunt plunders thoughtAnd steals joy with blessings forgotUntil God opens downcast eyesTo impact us with sweet surpriseUnveiled, like glimpses through a gateWhere worship’s endless pleasures wait How oft life's weight of care could wageA war that nothing could assuageWithout more than this world can hostOf temporary toast and boastHoisted between eternitiesA flail of mortal agoniesWhile glimpses through yon Gate remindThe man of the soul's transient rind How oft the Creator consolesEarth’s happiness, so full of holesWith glimpses of Heavenly HillsFrom whence our Help and Comfort spillsTo cheer us onward in the flightOf walking by faith, not by sightUntil Yon Gate eclipses graceAnd glimpses become face-to-face © Janet Martin Psalm 121:1-3I will lift up my eyes to the hills—From whence comes my help?My help comes from the Lord,Who made heaven and earth.He will not allow your foot to be moved;He who keeps you will not slumber.