Dust

Who has held the dust of the earth in a basket, or weighed the mountains on a scale and the hills with a balance?”

Isaiah 40:12b

Streams of sunlight stretched
through window, across the sky,
then settles in my corners of life.

Dust dances down steady sunlit shafts;
tumbling, twirling, telling of all life
before me, or time, or of the beginning.

Of Him who holds the dust of a lifetime 
in His hands; of all times, things, places
buried away from mankind’s knowledge.

From dust we are born, to dust we die;
yet in-between we can know Who holds
the dust of this world in a simple basket.

To Him be the honor and glory of each day.

P. Wolf

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