FROM MY BALCONY
There's a lot of dross In the creation of pure gold But the far landscape of pain untold Is not all loss. The times and tides, valleys and hills Though at times pleasant ground Are minefields for precious ore - found, Kept and treasured by the Eternal. Not one moment is lost By the Refiner, Who sifts our days and years; Extracting, through pain, love and tears A priceless gold At His great cost. 11.4.20