3-11-25

Three.
Bright morning sun, embraces God's creations with its mantle of light
Fine is the weather. Birds flying around. Wind rushing slight.
Clouds streaming across the skies.

Eleven.
Sailing across the seas. Calm as it may seem
Waves agitated by the emotional wind
Rocking the raft, tearing piece by piece.

Twenty-five.
Almost the end, I see. I yielded to the hand of the Almighty.
Resisted no more, but embraced it happily
My path was set, though blank, I walked through it.