Sacred
And sanctified.
Is it the throw of the dice?
Good luck or serendipity
Is it meek that is favoured?
For avoiding complicity.
Are the answers hallowed?
Sacred and sanctified
Or is fortune where it is found
Ordained and beatified.
In the quiet of night blessings
Form in drops of morning dew
Then fall in beads of silver
Out of the lightening blue.
The sun pierces the globules
Exploding in prisms of gold
Reflecting on a garden of diamonds
New warmth out of the cold.
The ocean whispers and murmurs
Tales from down in the deep
Hidden from understanding
Only exposed when we’re asleep.
Trees and leaves swing to the music
Of the movement in the breeze
And join in the synchronicity
Of the birds and the bees.
So, as I wake this morning
And watch the day evolve
I bless the fact that I am here
A sanctity of my resolve.
©
David Rudder
2023
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