The Patriarch
My Father
I started as any great thing does.....
An idea! Yea, that's what I was.
But how would I be formed and come to be?
Me, myself and the others that would follow me?
By the dust that blows around this place.
For in my Fathers house nothing goes to waste.
No tool shall touch me, hammer, level nor knife.
Only water and the Potters Hands needed, to mold my life.
Now. Made in His image! I now have form and shape.
But still just a shell, no feelings no motion so for life I await.
He Then exhales into my nostrils, the first breath that I"ll breathe.
More life sustaining than oxygen yet more intoxicating than
anything I can try or ever need.
He then gives me gifts of senses, mind, spirit, soul and free will.
Then says to me. "Look around you my son. All you see is yours. Do with
it what you will".
Now girded with all I will need to face life in every respect!
Thank you!!! To My... FATHER GOD.
THE SUPREME ARCHITECT!
Published by RANDY SHARPE
I am a 39 year old, single Black Male. Who offers a bold, versatile and insightful writing style. In the hopes of opening minds, to the positive power of honesty and self observation. View profile
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16 Comments
Post a Commentvery nice poem.
Beautiful and wonderful! Thank you for sharing!
Great poem!
Thanks Cathie. I'm glad you enjoyed it
This poem is sooo beautiful !!!...
Thank you C-Love for reading. Glad you enjoyed it.
Well done!!! Amen! Beautiful Father's Day poem ;o)
Thank you Jamie, Kim and A.M.. For reading. Your comments are welcome and very much appreciated:-)
Absolutely breathtaking and I was delighted to read it was written in honor of God. :-)
This is fantastic Randy. Excellent!