The Passing of Time
Here it is two thousand and three, and most of the year is past
the New year has aged, as we all have; nothing was built to last
except the spirit you cannot see. We are eternal like it or not
when all is over, said and done, this spirit is what you've got
Oh how much like the human heart, in this comparison are they
to different clocks in Our homes, seem to hold our life in sway
God gave to each an amount of time on this old earth to stay,
Our heart, like the old wound-up clock, they're ticking time away
Time on earth is a proving ground as our hearts tick life away
back to earth from where it came, this body into earth, will decay
A unique spirit's everlasting, being Made in a God-like way
"How do I spend my allotted time?" I ask myself this day
Hold a clock in your hand and then listen while it ticks away
your other hand on your heart, now what does it have to say?
"tick tick, tick tick, tick tick," listen to the passing of time
it's slipping past, so very fast, ticking off your life and mine.
that Good is God, with a double 'O;'
Good without God , a big fat zero
© Copyright 2003 jennywren
Painting of Jesus by Jenny Wren
My editor was forever saying, "I believe it
because a little bird told me, It was a Jenny wren."
Write me for a sample of my fiction.