Each day is a fleeting marker,
As days are transformed into years,
Heart and soul are wearied,
By the incessant call for more,
Rejected by a heart never satisfied,
It’s served faithfully but can’t be pleased,
Each day is the fruitless effort,
Of a daily quest that is never enough.
Belonging becomes a violent wrenching,
Of tearing my heart from love’s calling,
I turn up each day but passion dims,
When loyalty is repaid by greed,
This is the slow pulling apart,
By the pinpricks of selfish ambition,
Given by a thousand jabs each day,
The slow death of words that demean.
Today I begin by looking up,
To the reason why work began,
Instead of saying not good enough,
A child’s best efforts are blessed,
No longer just a brick in the wall,
My soul in God’s hands to safekeep,
The daily rhythm of work turned to blessing,
My heart’s effort transformed by Love’s clear voice,
That sees beyond the daily grind,
And seeks what lies in store for eternity.