This Fleeting Life: a poem of of eternal perspective.
How beautiful my life,
that I get to spend it with care—
care for my home
and the children I bear,
care for my husband
and the mountains he climbs.
How beautiful my life,
as I write little lines.
It is a gift,
an honor I cherish,
but one the enemy
would love to see perish.
And why?
For I am with the Lord,
and He is within me.
Why does the enemy linger?
Why does he not flee?
Because to cherish is an art,
a muscle grown in a resilient heart.
He twists the gift until it bends,
until you can no longer see its end.
But this beautiful life
was bought at a price—
it reminds him his downfall
is certain and precise.
The blood of the Lamb,
the testimony we bear—
this is all it takes
to cast him to despair.
So cherish this fleeting life—
its laughter, its tears, its rain.
For sorrow is not forever,
and there is no lasting pain.
Instead we hold a moment now
that eternity will not bring:
the chance to tell of our returning King,
to break through the numbness with song,
to shout His triumph loud and strong.
For it is here, in this passing light,
we are given the gift to shine—
until His kingdom dawns in full,
and His voice proclaims, “Mine.”
This is beautiful, sis 💕