Thousands of days roll by as one,
They all may seem the same.
A sun, a sky, a job to do,
Our lives, our world...no change.
How have our senses lost their edge?
Why is it that we claim...
That we, ourselves, are in control...
When God's presence is so plain.
So perfect is His handiwork,
So right is His design,
That we fail to see the artistry,
The beauty from His mind.
We tend to separate our lives from His,
How is it we can't see?
That this familiar world of ours
Shouts His reality.
blessings,
Rob Smith
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