Passing Words

Across a blanket in the sand
a hand moves pushing a pen,
like the pens of old
across the paper.

Words galloping like spurred stallions
but without any prompting of pain,
only with the force of words bottled up
against the resistance to truth about.

Sand blows across the page
invoking a memory of their numbers
compared to the few that blow
and are seen.

Perhaps one of those grains
finds its way into the eye of Satan
in the final battle,
all in the scope of God's strategy.

A plot beyond the scope of minds
and detailed to that level
where a grain matters,
where a soul is precious.

Whenever the ocean spews forth
another shell
a child may stop and read as love
what God has given.

Another soul is set up for later
when the truth be known
and another soul comes
to a Father's open arms.

It is all a message,
and there is no excuse,
for the readings are across pages
of life and scripture together.

The words we find
to write are what is already written
and we pull them from places
like sandy beaches and breezeways.