Another leaf falls

A leaf falls, to the earth each day,
A human body, falls in much the same way.

The tree and all its branches, gives strength to the leaves of green.
The family tree of human kind, great is the strength of a creator unseen.

One leaf at a time, falls gently to the earth,
relinquishing its strength, to give the young rebirth.

Just as the leaf, our bodies return to dust, leaving the tree of life behind us.
Our spirits to ascend, as in our creator, we put our trust.

The branches overloaded, the old leaf falls away.
The trunk gives its strength, to the young leaf's life,

Nudging the old leaf, releasing it from its existing strife.

Hope

Hope is like a silver thread, full of strength, yet so easily broken.
Hope stands at the edge, like a shiny token,
Hope is like a glimmering light, sometimes weak, sometimes bright.
Hope stands ready, when all seems lost,
Standing in the gap, when seas are tossed.
Hope gives its light, sending its shining ray.
Hope stands watching, when the hopless pray.

Miracle of a Mustard Seed

You promised me, If I would have faith, the size of a mustard seed.
All things would be possible, and I would have all the faith I need.
So, when trials came upon me, and my faith was sorely tried,
I called upon you, Jesus, Then remembered when I cried,
I called upon your promise, knowing my faith was small,
Asking to give me courage and strength, as I feared a dreadful fall.
As my prayers were answered, and my faith approved,
My heart was overwhelmed with gratefulness, and I realized again,
How great your love for mankind has proved.
What gigantic faith it takes to heal a child, and bless a human blind,
Releasing darkness from the heart, and calling out the demons, to cure a feeble mind.
When all I can muster, is a faith so very small,
Calling on your power, to help us one and all.
Thank you for the promise, for a faith as small as mine,
That it can be granted, as small as a mustard seed,
Created by a hand as great a thine.

The Staff

Our lives are like a wooden staff, all bright and shiny new.
Then heat and cold and waves of time, leaves its residue.
What started out, as a young new limb, ended up, withered, with eyes that are dim.
The staff was found beside a new oak tree, by a youthful lad, of only three.
He brought it home for his father to make, a staff for leaning, that would not break.
As the youth advanced, to his teen age years,
His staff showed the pain, of his heartache and tears.
A small little crack at the crook, by the hand, felt the weight of the boy,
But both continued to stand.
The man was a father, with weights on his mind, Responsibilities galore, but still he was kind.
The cracks became llonger, and the cracks were not few.
The staff became darker, not so bright, not so new.
The man and the staff, both felt the weight, both carried it well.
Both marred by the heat, and the aches of artritis,
Made both the man and the staff, begin to swell.
The man became fifty, and looked back on his life.
He'd weathered many storms, had his share of strife.
The staff became fifty, recognizing the hand,
As it learned on him harder, but he'd come to understand.
The staff was smoother, not so rough to the touch.
But still strong and able, after going through much.
The hair is now white, the children are grown.
The staff becomes weaker, as it creaks and it groans.
Yes, our lives remind us of that tired old staff.
Memories that make us cry, then make us laugh.
The staff that once was young and strong, grows weak and waxes old.
Waiting by the bedroom door, listening for the footsteps, to be held, just once more.

would we treat him differently

Would we treat him differently if he should come today.
Would we treat him differently or would we laugh and walk away?

Would we treat him differently,
Calling out for help in a world of strife and pain,
Asking for his comfort in a world of greed and gain?

Would we treat him differently, than we did so long ago.
When on this earth he traveled, healing pain and suffering,
So we could live and know.

Would our eyes be blind to seeing, would we ask for his advise.
Woulld we hear his words of healing, in a world of greed and vice?

Would we open our arms to him, if he would come tomarrow.
To promise comfort and relief for poverty and sorrow?

Would we treat him differently, if he would come this very day,
Or would we turn our busy backs and go our merry way?

Dear Fellow Citizen

So you've become a citizen of the United States of America.
Becoming one of us, are taking on a new dimension.
You are joining the ranks of the common man.
You've entered a group of men and women, that want you to understand.

That the United States does'nt end with a piece of paper called,
The Proclamation of Rights, or, The Constitution of the United States of America,
That's where it starts.

Each state is individual, yet united.
Each individual values his or her priviledge to be different, yet united.
The silent majority, you can rest assured,
still exists in abundance, and your welcome aboard.
Standing United, we'll fight to speak our view.
Agreed on opinions, that displease a few.

We believe in God.
We believe in the sacredness of life.
We believe in the importance of family values.
We believe to be a good citizen,
We must love one another, as we would like to be loved.

When any government becomes stronger than freedom can allow,
That is when you will see what the word, united, stands for.
Each citizen, you and I,
Will stand United to defend our freedom.
The so-called, silent majority will loudly proclaim our freedom.
We will stand by our Proclamation of Rights.
We will defend the Original Constitution to the very death.

So welcome to our country, fellow citizen.
You are not entitled to stand with us.
To stand against violence, any injustice, treason.
We're in a time of turmoil, so don't expectto get rich.
But when you join our ranks, you're important,
Whether you're a doctor or digging a ditch.
May God bless and our country.
So every man. woman and child can live long, safe, productive lives

The Human Race

The race is not always to the swift of gait,
The race can be won if your willing to wait.
The test is not always to be number one,
The test may be to listen,
Seeking the knowledge of, "Thy Will Be Done"
The race of life is not how fast you climb,
The race of life is successful, over the period of time.
The test of life cannot always be measured,
But the race of life should always be treasured.
The test of life is not about grades,
But living life to the fullest,
Before health, spirit and time all fades.
The race is not always to the swift of gait,
The race can be won if your will to wait.
The test is not always to be number one,
The test may be to listen,
Seeking the knowledge of, "Thy Will Be Done."