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


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