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 We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
The last of day this live-long year will slip beyond the Earth. For when the sun is newly clear the year will have new birth. A slate to write without a mark that's like the new fall'n snow. The newest thoughts to light each spark to help us writers grow. The yellow's low to make the trees these latest silhouettes. The pink-streak "bird" will light to free these passengers it has met. The light gray sky with hints of pink floats past the fading green of pine trees and mimosa sticks, but soon this year's not seen. The days of 2025 have seen so many things. Their hopes may yet remain and thrive as human hearts still sing. "Goodbye, Dear Rays of Sunlight fair. Your blessings will be missed, but when the light we see o'er there, The Son we'll ever kiss." The light ekes through the tulgey wood, the last of fire doused, but God's provision's always good. They're in His Good Heart housed. by Jay O’Toole on December 31st, 2025      |
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