You can't go wrong in asking for what is right, For truth will guide you through the darkest night. What is right? It shines in heaven’s sight, Found in God’s will and His eternal light.
In seeking His grace, your heart will be still, For righteousness dwells where He bends His will. His delight is the compass, steady and true, Leading you forward in all that you do.
So ask with faith, and seek what is pure, In God’s delight, your path is secure. For what is right flows from His hand, A promise eternal, a love that will stand.
A strange old lady has moved in with me, I can't quite place who she could be. I never invited her, that's for sure, One day she appeared, a sly saboteur.
She hides in shadows, she’s stealthy and keen, But in the mirror, she’s always seen. When I check my reflection, there she stands, Obliterating my face with her wrinkled hands!
I've shouted at her, screamed in despair, But she just yells back with a devilish glare. She won't pay the bills or share the rent, Yet my cash is mysteriously spent.
She raids my fridge, my sweet stash is gone, And somehow she’s making the scale turn wrong! I swear she fiddles with all my attire, My clothes shrink up as she conspires.
She messes with papers, my files a mess, And blurs all my reading, I must confess. The TV mumbles, the phone whispers low, She’s twisted the volume as part of her show.
The stairs are steeper, the bed's too high, She glued down the jars, oh how hard I try! Shopping for clothes? Forget the fun, She hogs the mirror and spoils the run.
But worst of all, when the camera flashed, She jumped in front—my photo trashed. This old lady’s crafty, clever, and sly, I just hope she never stops by *your* eye!
Thank you, Georgia Police K9 Foundation, For your heart and dedication to our nation. With support from those who care so much, You’ve helped keep Denny in a loving touch.
Brave K9 Denny, your service is true, You’ve protected us all, through and through. Now it’s time for you to rest and play, To enjoy retirement, day by day.
For years you’ve stood by our side, With loyalty and courage, never to hide. Now may your days be calm and free, Happy and healthy as they should be.
Thank you, dear Denny, for all you’ve done, Now go and bask in the warmth of the sun. Your service remembered, your bravery shines bright, Enjoy your retirement, with peace in sight.
It’s funny, they don’t allow Bibles in schools, Where young hearts and minds are shaped by the rules, Where knowledge is treasured, and wisdom should grow, But God’s Holy Word is kept out, though.
Yet behind prison walls, where the broken reside, Where hope feels distant and light hard to find, The Bible is given, its pages unfold, To those seeking redemption, weary and cold.
In a place where darkness has taken its hold, Suddenly, truth is allowed to be told. The same book that’s banned where the young should be taught, Is now offered freely where souls have been caught.
It’s funny, yet tragic, the way things are done— Keeping out truth where learning’s begun, But offering grace to those who’ve been bound, A flicker of hope where sin had them drowned.
Perhaps it’s a sign of the world gone astray, That we wait till they’re lost to show them the way. What if we welcomed His word from the start, And let the Bible shape every heart?
Grace gives us blessings we have never earned, While mercy spares us from what we have learned. Undeserved favor, a gift from above, Unmerited kindness, wrapped in God’s love.
Mercy steps in when we stumble and fall, A tender embrace when we’ve broken the law. It withholds the justice we know should be ours, A shield of compassion in life’s darkest hours.
Both grace and mercy, intertwined as one, Reflecting the light of God’s risen Son. Grace lifts us higher, mercy sets us free, Together, they show His love eternally.
Snow capped Pikes Peak soaring over the Garden of the Gods Park in Colorado Springs, Colorado in a colorful Autumn morning. The photo was taken at the Garden of the Gods Visitor Center with my Nikon D800E.
God set Pikes Peak in Colorado for all to see, A towering testament to His majesty. With snow-capped heights that touch the sky, A reminder His glory is forever nigh.
No one could craft such a mountain so grand, Rising so boldly from Colorado’s land. Majestic and mighty, it stands in His name, A symbol of power, unchanging, the same.
Through storms and sunshine, it holds its place, A reflection of God's enduring grace. For in each peak and valley wide, His eternal glory will always abide.
"God does not play dice with the universe," Said the mind that sought to uncover the laws, In the dance of stars, in the birth of verse, A truth that no uncertainty could cause.
The cosmos spins with purpose in its core, Each atom placed by hands unseen, precise. The fabric of the heavens, ever more, Is woven tight, beyond the roll of dice.
Yet still we search, through science, through the skies, To grasp the depth of mysteries untold. For while we count the stars with human eyes, The soul seeks something more, the pure, the bold.
In every chance, a meaning does emerge, A force that guides beyond what chance allows. For even in the random, there’s a surge Of purpose shaping time, space, and our vows.
No dice are cast, but still the worlds collide, With love and wonder, with design and grace. In every twist, a hand that does not hide, God's steady touch that holds the vastest space.
Created by MarkWaldrop
Albert Einstein is often quoted as saying, “God does not play dice with the universe.”
What makes you think that we are truly aware? No proof exists to show we even care. We claim to think, to choose our own way, But fear the challenge of a different display.
We parrot the words we are taught to repeat, And squirm in discomfort at views that compete. Conformity rules, our minds in a bind, Blind to the freedom true thought could find.
Religious wars, our misguided fight, Not for survival, but for what we deem "right." Other creatures battle for hunger or space, Yet we fight for beliefs in a bitter race.
For beliefs shape behavior, and behavior holds sway, Guiding the course of humanity’s day. But as we march toward a self-made doom, Why claim we're aware in this crowded room?
Stubborn, destructive, we follow the path, While ignoring the signs of the coming wrath. Is there no hope? No way to restore? Are we doomed to repeat this cycle of war?
Love is the answer, the beacon of light, Sent by God’s Son to redeem our plight. For love breaks the chains of conformity’s might, And offers a way to set everything right.
So, before we declare we’re truly aware, Let love be our guide, and we’ll find we care. God’s gift to us, through His Son’s sacrifice, Is the way to awaken, to live and be wise.
The fruit comes from the roots below, What’s deep inside will surely grow. For what you believe, and hold within, Will rise like leaves where truth begins.
The roots of faith, of hope, of love, Will bear good fruit from skies above. But doubt or fear, if left to thrive, Will surface too, though we try to hide.
So tend your roots with careful care, For what they yield is always there. In time, the world will surely see, The fruit of all you’re meant to be.
