There’s a peace that rests upon the skin, A quiet calm, where life begins, In gentle waves and soft repose, A hush that through the body flows.
It’s found in silence, soft and deep, In starry nights, in tranquil sleep, A breeze that stirs the morning air, A stillness free from weight or care.
But then there’s peace within the soul, A sacred calm that makes us whole, Not bound by sight, or touch, or sound, A grace that lifts us from the ground.
This peace transcends the fleeting day, It holds through storms that come our way, A trust that quiets every fear, A warmth that says, I’m always here.
One peace is felt, as breath drawn in, A fleeting balm on weary skin, The other, deep—a holy grace, A shelter found in Love’s embrace.
Two kinds of peace, like day and night, One seen, one hidden, yet both alight. Together they bring hearts release, The strength of flesh, the soul’s true peace.
In a quiet place, Elmira’s hills, Where Twain and Lewis rest so still, Two friends, one white, one black, we find, In the company of time entwined.
One born free, a farmer’s son, The other born where rivers run, Each path unique, yet crossing here Bound by respect, and hearts sincere.
When Twain’s kin faced a runaway’s flight, Lewis, unflinching, braved the night, Saved them both, at risk of loss, A soul undaunted, a friend embossed.
A bond grew deep through words and days, Religion, faith, and simple ways; Twain’s books inscribed with warm intent, To Lewis’ hands each page was sent.
And when Huck’s tale resumed its bend, Perhaps it was this faithful friend That brought Jim forth, not fear or shame A man, not just a shadowed name.
Years after, on New York’s street, A black man, white man, calmly greet, In Twain’s eye, no spectacle near, Only respect, undimmed, sincere.
He’d pondered race, the frail divide, How law and custom shaped its pride, In Huck’s and Wilson’s tales so bold, A truth laid bare, a fiction told.
Now here they lie, in Elmira’s fold, Two lives interred as tales retold.
Mark and John, side by side, rest In friendship’s bond, forever blessed.
Created by MarkWaldrop
Taken from an article written by Harlow Arquette Member of Strange and Curious Things, Facebook
I’m happy to say, as a kid I knew, A few times like this, skies wide and blue. Different hat, a dog at my side, A horse beneath me, with nowhere to hide.
The world stretched open, quiet and grand, With reins in my grip and dreams in my hand. No rush, no noise, just hoofbeats’ song, The sense of right where I belong.
I can still feel it, that gentle thrill, The peace that held the air so still. Exhilaration, pure and light, A memory etched in morning light.
Different times, but the feeling remains Freedom’s whisper across open plains. Just a kid, yet knowing this bliss, I’m happy to say, I’ve known times like this.
It’s not where you’ve been, but where you’ll go, The dreams you chase, the seeds you sow. The past may shape, but cannot bind, For forward lies the road you’ll find.
Footprints fade on trails behind, Their lessons stay, but don’t define. Each sunrise brings a brand-new chance, A step ahead, a forward glance.
So lift your gaze, let shadows fall, It’s where you’re going, after all. The journey’s yours to rise and steer, A future bright, a path mad clear.
There’s the way to do it, clear and right, A path well-lit, in steady light. A careful choice, a thoughtful turn, Where wisdom guides, and lessons earn.
Then there’s the way not meant to be, A winding road, no clarity. The steps unsure, the outcome blurred, A path where doubt and fear are stirred.
And then, the way you took that day, The choice you made, come what may. Looking back now, wish you’d known, How seeds of regret could be sown.
But every way, each step we tread, From things we wish were left unsaid, Becomes a lesson, sharp and true A guide to show what next to do.
Don’t try to break through to God, Be still, let Him come to you In quiet places, hearts are stirred, His presence soft and true.
Stilling soul and mind, listen for His call, An ever-calm, sweet voice that changes all. Though the world may try to lead astray, His peace descends as you humbly pray.
For in the silent, sacred space, His love flows deep, His gentle grace. Be patient, still, and you will see God’s love unfolds, eternally free.
On Sabbath’s calm, with whispered grace, A hand once withered found its place. No rule, no law, could bind the might, Of love that heals, of purest light.
The critics watched with eyes of stone, Yet mercy stood, unbowed, alone. A touch, a word, a heart made whole— A spark of grace to heal the soul.
To choose compassion, brave and clear, To stand for love when others fear. For sometimes faith must bend the rule, To teach that love is Heaven’s school.
And so we learn, in steps so small, To heal, to lift, to answer the call. In hands we hold, let kindness flow, And walk with peace where others go.
Created by MarkWAldrop
Mat 12:13 Then he said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." So he stretched it out and it was completely restored, just as sound as the other.
The more the Christian suffers on the outside, The more hope rises on the inside. In trials fierce and burdens deep, Our faith grows strong, our spirits leap.
Though darkness falls and tempests roar, God’s grace shines brighter than before. In every scar, a story told, Of strength renewed, of courage bold.
For as we bear the cross’s weight, Our souls draw near to Heaven’s gate. With every tear, our hope does grow, A steady light through winds that blow.
So let the trials come our way, In Christ alone, we stand and stay. For on this path, though shadows fall, His hope within us conquers all.
