Silver Mist in Eternity

“Serenity” whispers the silver creek as it slides by.
Clear waters slowly twirl beneath the glassy ripples.
Twigs bob and twist, yielding to the gentle flow.
Brush, trees, rocks, and ferns, reflected by the journey.
Where from, where to, from highest heights to deepest sleep?
Thoughts pondered by the faces, reflecting in life’s stream.

The rush begins, the rocks break in, churning and chirping.
Frantic waters dance and jump in the rushing chorus.
Irresistible the descending tugs, no stopping now they sing.
A downward race, hurry, hurry, little stream, don’t be late.
No time now for questions, no question to the course.
Follow the flow, think not, just feel the yearning to descend.

Foaming, jostling, tumbling in the mounting momentum.
One moment of turmoil and then all are swept away.
Separated, dropping, falling, like pouring rain, unending rain.
Time seems to stop, for those drops shot from the cliff.
No going back, forward the downward deluge flings.
Deafening the sound, of the falling, mingled shouts resounding.

Most are dashed upon the rocks, fallen, height now spent.
Still hope springs, in the silver mist suspended in the air,
Separated from the flow, shirking the beckoning ground,
More still are called up from the watery grave, rising in the wind.
A silver cloud, witness to the trauma of the fall and rising in the son.
Rainbows glow in the mist, rays of color form this blessed sign.

The fallen waters mourn in rapid’s wake, on to that destined deep.
All around echoing their dying sounds, fading into the night.
Beyond the bend at last, gone from sight, no way but down.
The misty few are drawn heavenward no longer bound,
What can keep them now from floating with the four winds?
Such is the story of the silver creek, mist or fall, tis eternity.

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  1. This poem is contrasting Serenity with Eternity and was inspired by a waterfall. Upstream from the fall, all is calm, the water is still and quiet, and there was a bridge we played “Poo-Sticks” on. From the bridge we could look down into glassy water and see reflections of our surroundings and of our own faces. This calm quit was a time of reflection, as a busy adult it was comforting to finally get away from it all but the kids were excited and enjoying themselves. I realized that our childhood is like the calm waters. We are sheltered from the world’s cares by our parents or at least we should be, but its also dangerous for adults who might be lulled to sleep. Ignorance is bliss until we feel the consequences of it, and so those who are not in a struggle, who don’t know what it’s like to not have needs met, the prosperous, and rich, they will not be ready for trials, for the end. Likewise, people in the busy bustle of life, the daily grind, the struggle to achieve, to better themselves, they to are unprepared for what is to come. Short sightedness is just as blinding as prosperity. Distractions and noise work to draw our attentions away from the future and the things that will truly matter.

    When it’s too late, all hope is gone of changing, of going back and flowing down again. The water can not resist the pull of gravity. In the same way we can not resist the pull of time, nor can we escape death. The falls I went to dumped water into a rocky canyon with only one way out. The water had lost its freedom, it was bound by the cliffs to go on beyond the turn. In that canyon the water misted in the air giving off a silvery look to all the trees and if standing in the right light a rainbow. The rainbow is the sign of hope, a promise that water would never again destroy the earth. It was God promising a way out for the remnant that chose him. So we see in the water falling mist separating from the flow and rising in the air, such will be the case in the second coming but the dead will rise as well, those called up from the grave will be mist as well. Only the remnant who believed in the promise will be called. That condition having been met, the mist is set free to wander in the heavens. Free for all eternity.


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