Thursday, September 25, 2014
That old Clock on the wall's not broke
The clock on the wall stopped at noon, or midnight.
Both hands are straight up.
I gave it new batteries and reset the time.
It ran fine until both hands were pointed toward heaven and once again it stopped.
I’ve reset the time…three times.
Each time it’d stop with hands held high.
Now, I just leave it alone—at least it’s right twice a day.
That old clock’s my favorite—it’s taught me a lot.
Twice a day, at midnight and at noon it reminds me to stand my ground and not back down. It
doesn’t waver it just stands steady, yet twice a day it’s right on time.
It tells me every noon with its hands held high to stop from the crazy busy hectic schedule we call life and raise my hands high in thanks to the God who gives me life.
At midnight if it had a bell it would toll the loudest. With its hands raised in surrender, at that moment it rings a comfort and a warning.
For the worn and weary it sings of a coming Light.
For others living in the night it declares the day is fast approaching and it’s time to make things right.
Even though others say it’s broken and I should throw it to the curb.
I’ll just keep it hanging on the wall for all to observe.