A Poem As Lovely

The Poem In Front Of Me

There was a poem
right in front of me.
All I had to do
was describe it.
It was made of things
which I cannot conceive.
All I could do
was write it.


If I believe in God, which I do, then what am I doing, ever, but retracing the lines first written, first drawn, first loved by my own creator. There is a lot written about this, but I like how Joyce Kilmer put it. He must have felt the same way when he wrote this poem about a hundred years ago. You've probably heard the first line of this poem many times, but you may not have heard how it ends. I think it eludes to how everything ends.

The verses from the prophet Isaiah, below, put it all into perspective for me. I hope these words help all of us understand the true and greater perspective.


Trees
Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

::


...Break into song,
O mountains and forests and every tree!
For the Lord has redeemed Jacob
and is glorified in Israel.

This is what the Lord says—
your Redeemer and Creator:
“I am the Lord, who made all things.
I alone stretched out the heavens.
Who was with me
when I made the earth?

I expose the false prophets as liars
and make fools of fortune-tellers.
I cause the wise to give bad advice,
thus proving them to be fools.

- Isaiah 44:23-25