To Write My Life

If life were a book, perhaps it could be full of plot twists.
There could be high moments and those requiring of tears,
Hours and days that spun into years,
Hopes and dreams and all manner of fears,
And dark shadows that fall into mists.

If I wrote life in the pages of a book, perhaps there could be laughter.
There could be so much laughter that people cry,
There might be battles, so people would die,
And in every dark alley you'd find a spy,
Running from the morning after.

If the pages kept turning, perhaps you'd find something missing.
I can write of ships and serpents slick,
Of sunset plains and waters quick,
And heroes fair and villains sick,
But on this page vacuum is hissing.

I would write in this book of what I may fathom, and this does not fall therein.
I think it a just course of action, then
To discard such thoughts beyond my ken,
And take my mind back where it's been,
To not contemplate anything new err I begin.

These pages would read of lying and truth, of loyalty without disdain,
Of faults and virtues, honest and wise,
Brights trees on a mountain, bathed in sunrise,
Stars scattered in black, the ending of skies,
But nothing of love and it's pain.

My book would be grand, adventures endless and exciting too,
But no love to muddle the turning of pages,
No love to send the men into rages,
No love to last to the end of the ages,
Nothing I cannot subdue.

This book would carry my life, and therefore my mind.
It would contain only the sure things,
Directed by Time's Bell's rings,
And my raspy voice as it sings
Of all I wish to find.

Thank goodness, then that it's not being written.
At least, not written by me,
It is composed by He
The One who wrote the birthsong and eulogy,
He writes me and I am smitten.

Love is His province, He understands all.
I must simply stand back,
Let Him take the crack
To put my life on the track
That takes it past the pall.

If I wrote life as a book, perhaps it would be satisfactory in my eyes,
But He writes the book,
He included that look,
That caught me and took,
All my fear away, and opened the skies.

The next chapter leads somewhere else, I know not where.
He guides it with a sure hand,
One that marks the sand
In different ways than I had planned,
Yet somehow still answered my prayer.

No love for me if I write my life, and convince myself it is right.
But should He write this masterpiece,
The flow of love might never cease,
I will have my unearned peace,
And join Him in His light.