by Marijo Phelps
3/15/2009 / Poetry
Olive drab rubbery wrinkles
Hot, belly scorching, gritty sand
Eating half-dead leftovers
From the dusty ground
Eyes occluded with opaque scales
Oozing black slime
The worm barely exists
Thousands of colors
Of a glistening rainbow
Velvet black, powdery brilliant blue
Frosty white, sunset orange and on
Each uniquely recreated
Free to soar to heights
To dip down
On dew speckled, delicate yellow iris petal
From leaf, to stately tree
To crystal sky dressed in purple sunset
Yes, death to SELF
A barely living worm,
To indescribable beauty
As a born again
Uniquely free butterfly
Will you allow Jesus into your heart?
To liberate the butterfly of your soul
In new birth with Him?
Or do you choose SELFISH SELF
And to remain for eternity
Linked in inseparable league
With THE WORM?
My blog is:
(C) Marijo Phelps all rights reserved. Use with proper credits.
Saved by His grace in 1974, from 9 years of professing atheism into His loving arms. RN for 23 years, missionary with YWAM then statistical analyst for Every Home for Christ over 9 years. Living with my husband in the middle of a mountain meadow. GRIN! Wanting to spread the good news
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! Click here and TRUST JESUS NOW
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