The Onset of Things to Come

The dawn has spread, four hours deep

Across the thinning sky

Illusive ghosts of midnight creep

Beyond its waning eye

And on the cusp of things to come

With mystic fingertips

God’s grace unfolds a sacred bloom

As morning parts its lips

Inhale the nectar of His hope

Love bleeds miraculously

As Time exhales a transient scope

Of opportunity

And on the cusp of things to come

Another day begins

Mercy imparts from lofty Throne

Forgiveness for our sins

Beneath our feet a stepping-stone

Of moments yields its path

Leading into life’s vast unknown

From history’s aftermath

Ephemeral vapor on Time’s tongue

This brief reality

What was

What is

And is to come

Before

Eternity

© Janet Martin