Metamorphosed

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Sometimes we might think

we are simply grains of sand

Stretched out across the beach of life

feeling powerless…

unable to render // help

or change the world around us…

Until // heat and the pressures of life

surround our soul

bringing us together

with many others…

Metamorphosed

into a solid mass of rock

which // in the right hands //

can be shaped // carved // or built upon

in ways that change the world

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

 

 

 

Grain of Sand

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When I think of the vastness of the universe, I wonder at my own insignificance. We all ask the question, “Why am I here?” What Is my Purpose?” “Is there life after death?”  Unanswerable questions run through our mind as we live our life. As a person of faith, I believe God is the creator who gives me purpose and a reason to live and serve others. This poem looks at, not only our insignificance in the greater scheme of things. but  at the purpose for which we were created and exist.

Grain of Sand

Am I just a grain of sand

On the beach of the cosmos

Glinting now and then in the sunlight

As the waters of life wash over me

Am I just a grain of sand

Cemented together by heat and pressure

Metamorphic marble creating the beauty

Contrasting with all others around me

Am I just a grain of sand

Covering surrounding and preserving

Things to be uncovered in eons to come

Sedimentary fossils of the past perfectly saved

Am I just a grain of sand

Identity lost along with others

Melted and spewed out by volcanic forces

Life so intense all individuality gone

Ending in translucent crystal of beauty

Am I just a grain of sand

Crushed and pulverized in the milieu

Gathered wet and smooth on the potter’s wheel

Molded and shaped into a whole

Much greater than myself

Only to be fired transformed hardened

Into a useful creation

Made for a purpose

Defined and fixed

By the Potter’s hand

Only to be broken in time

And returned to dust

While my spirit

Lives on into eternity

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Raindrops

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Raindrops

Glad I’m not a raindrop falling

From ten thousand feet in the air

Landing with a hard splat on the highway

Dividing and joining with others to run

Down the ditches red mud along for the ride

Glad I’m not a raindrop falling on the roses

Soft landings with no bottoms sharp thorns

Splitting drops in half no injury or hurt

Painless tears running down a jagged stem

Only to be swallowed up by thirsty roots

Glad I am not a raindrop falling from on high

Freezing into balls of crystal with no flexibility

Stacking up like congressmen in cold masses

Chilling everything with cold unchanging views

What future promise do crystal balls hold

Glad I am not a raindrop falling into a lake

Pounding the surface in vain spreading abroad

Lost in the masses swallowed in vastness

Identity lost waiting to be reborn once more

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth