After Acts 1:1-8
The
doctor sits, pen in hand,
hesitating
before the emptiness
stretched
in front of him. One
part
completed, one part left.
He
feels a small chill, as he
often
does these days, this time
grown
shorter. He pulls his cloak
closer,
as the scroll beckons.
He
begins this task set
before
him, this work to be read
by
only one, one friend and
he
wonders if it will be shared
as
the nib of the pen finally
touches
the untouched scroll.
Part
of this he knows himself,
part
he does not, so he talks
he
reads, he listens, he writes
letters
to those who saw
although
he ranks grow thin.
While
he writes, Pompeii
is
buried, Jerusalem falls,
emperors
come and go, wisps
on
an unforgiving wind
only
the words last
only
the words survive.
Illustration by George Hodan via Public
Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
"Truly I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all things take place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away"
ReplyDeleteNot only read, but written, lived and died for, unto this day.
Thank you for echoing His Voice.
"While he writes, Pompeii
ReplyDeleteis buried, Jerusalem falls . . . "
That gave me pause...
Powerful poem, Glynn! You should retire more often. :)
ReplyDeleteWatching 'A.D.' is fleshing out this gospel story more and more. I can see this as you write...the small band of faithful followers clinging to this invisible Jesus, faith in the future.
ReplyDeletePowerful poem, Glynn.
Oh, well done, Glynn. Thank you.
ReplyDelete