The All-Seeing Eye
sky clouded over and dark,
tips of trees pointed skyward.
A gentle wind blows leaves
up and down, reaching for an event horizon.
knows where it will all lead?
Daily tasks becoming nightmares,
waiting to envelope us in their problem trees.
wait for the point of no return?
As hay moulders in the fields,
orange with straight lines thwarted
the hands are there to support us,
carry us and protect
so that we should know that
over and above
even the deepest despair
is within their care.
Look up and be glad.
Poem © Charles Jobson. For permission to re-use contact firstname.lastname@example.org. Painting © Samuel Toussaint.