No man’s ever the same, once he’s crossed the sand,
The desert leaves its mark like a scar on his hand.
Each step burns a lesson, each breath carves a line,
In the silence, he wrestles with something divine.

He either takes something — a truth hard and clear,
Or leaves something behind, like doubt or like fear.
The sun strips him bare, the wind wears him thin,
Till all that remains is the fire within.

No map can prepare him, no words can explain,
The weight of the silence, the sweetness of rain.
He meets his own shadow, his soul face to face,
In the wide open nowhere, he finds his own place.

For the desert is ruthless, but honest and true,
It takes what you cling to and shows you what’s you.
No man’s ever the same, once the sands have been crossed —
Some find themselves whole, and some count the cost.

MarkWaldrop

Everything you love may fade,
Like footprints lost where tides have played.
A whispered name, a fleeting touch,
The echoes soft of those we clutch.

Yet love is not a thing confined,
It shifts, it bends, it redefines.
A seed that falls, the rain’s embrace,
It blooms again in time and space.

Through aching loss, through sorrow’s mist,
A hand will reach, a dawn persist.
For love returns in forms unknown,
A voice, a light, a kindness shown.

Embrace the change, let go, expand,
Like rivers carve the yielding land.
Pain to wonder, loss to grace,
Love will find its rightful place.

MarkWaldrop

In a quiet place, I stand in Your Grace,
A refuge of peace in this sacred space.
Without Your love, where would I be?
Lost in the storm, adrift at sea.

But You, O Lord, are ever near,
Your whispered truth, so calm, so clear.
For Grace and Mercy flow from above,
Poured out in boundless, endless love.

These gifts are found in Jesus’ name,
The Lamb of God, the One who came.
He walked among us, pure and true,
Revealing all that Love can do.

For Jesus said, “Come, follow Me,
If you have seen Me, then My Father you see.”
Through Him, we learn, through Him, we live,
And in His light, our souls forgive.

So in this quiet, here I stay,
Wrapped in Grace, I kneel and pray.
For all I need is found in Thee,
My Savior, Lord—eternally.

God is Love.

MarkWaldrop

         Masterpiece

Each one of us, a masterpiece rare,
Crafted by God with infinite care.
Not born of chance, nor lost in the tide,
But shaped by His love, with purpose inside.

Through winding paths and trials unknown,
We never walk this road alone.
His hands have formed us, strong and true,
With a work to fulfill, a calling to do.

In Christ, we’re made not just anew,
But set apart with a mission in view.
Not random acts, but plans divine,
Threads of grace in His grand design.

A word of kindness, a hand to lend,
A light to shine, a heart to mend.
Each step we take, His love displays,
Guiding our lives in wondrous ways.

So walk with faith, stand bold and free,
For you are His—His artistry.
A vessel of hope, a spark of His grace,
A masterpiece held in His warm embrace.

MarkWaldrop

To serve another, hand to hand,
to lift the weary where they stand,
to give with love, to walk with grace,
to bring the light to every place.

No greater work, no nobler way,
than easing burdens day by day.
A word, a touch, a kindness shared,
a life devoted, one that cared.

Not for the riches, not for fame,
but for the calling, not the name.
For in the giving, hearts will find
a joy that lingers, pure and kind.

So go and serve, stand strong, stand true,
let love and mercy shine through you.
For in this life, when all is done,
the greatest gift is love begun.

MarkWaldrop

A Rich Man’s War, A Poor Man’s Fight

They sounded the call, the banners waved,
The cannons roared, the ground was paved
With blood of men who had no choice,
While others bought their way with coin and voice.

The wealthy sat in gilded halls,
Safe behind their mansion walls,
They paid their fee, their pockets deep,
And sent the poor their debt to keep.

A farmer’s son, a blacksmith’s hand,
Were marched to die in no man’s land,
For causes they did not decide,
Yet bled and broke, yet fought and died.

The city man with silken coat,
Signed a check, escaped the boat,
No battle cries, no muddy trench,
No shattered bones, no blood-soaked stench.

But war does not just take the low,
Its fire burns both friend and foe,
And those who buy their peace today,
May find their sons must one day pay.

A rich man’s war, a poor man’s fight,
The story echoes through the night,
For every war, in time’s cruel hand,
Still claims the toil of common man.

MarkWaldrop

When the world spins wild and takes its toll,
What does it take to renew your soul?
Is it a quiet moment, a whispered prayer,
A deep, steady breath in the morning air?

Is it the hush of waves on a moonlit shore,
Or birdsong drifting through an open door?
A mountain’s hush, a river’s flow,
A golden field where wild winds blow?

Perhaps it’s laughter, a loved one’s touch,
A melody that means so much.
The scent of pine, the warmth of sun,
A task well done when the day is done.

Whatever your cup of tea may be,
Drink it often, wild and free.
For in these moments, still and true,
You find yourself—you are renewed.

MarkWaldrop

Mere existence, a life confined,
Is not the path for heart and mind.
We seek the sun’s embracing light,
To warm our souls and grant us sight.

Freedom’s breath, the open air,
A boundless space without a care.
Our spirits soar on wings unbound,
In liberty, true joys are found.

A little flower, simple, sweet,
Reminds us life is more complete
With beauty gracing every day,
In modest, unassuming ways.

So let us seek beyond mere being,
Embrace the light, the freeing feeling,
And cherish all the small delights
That make our journey truly bright.

Mark Waldrop

“Just living is not enough...
One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.”
Hans Christian Andersen

A thousand years of golden light,
Where pleasures flow and hearts take flight,
May soothe the soul, yet still remain
A hollow joy, a fleeting gain.

For what is wealth without His grace?
A shining mask, an empty place.
What is ease if He’s not near?
A whisper lost, a voiceless tear.

But one day’s pain beneath His hand,
Though hard to bear, is deeply planned.
For in the trial, faith is tried,
And in the fire, gold refined.

His love sustains, His mercy guides,
His presence never leaves our side.
A single day of trust and tears
Outweighs the wealth of endless years.

So let the world its riches claim,
Let kings and empires chase their fame,
I choose the path, though rough it be,
Where Christ alone walks close to me.

MarkWaldrop