Creation

The Lord, my God, speaks
And creation springs forth
He rolls up his sleeves
And plants a lush green garden
Every nook and cranny
Teems with beauty and wonders
In the midst of that garden
God places me, the steward
He shares with me His
Dreams for this place
The joy that will fill its atmosphere
Satisfied with all his work God steps back
Leaving me to tend to His other creations
Trusting me to tend the this garden
I roll up my sleeves and begin
I toil and sweat, dream and create
Just as I was taught
I stand back to admire my handiwork
Only to realize the beauty and wonder
Of the garden has only been diminished by my labor
I roll up my sleeves even higher
I work at a fevered pitch
Until the day that the first
Brown leaf hits the ground
The color, once so vibrant around me
Has long since faded away
Despair strikes, knocking me to my knees
What will my Lord think
He who so effortlessly creates
Wonder and beauty
He who left me as steward
Will return to his beloved garden dry and dead
I lay there with my face
Pressed against the parched earth
And above my quiet sobs
I hear approaching footsteps
A hand finds rest on my shoulder
I turn afraid of what I might find
The Lord, my God, has returned
And He looks at me with tears streaming down his face
Seemingly forgetting about the garden
He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight
God unrolls my sleeves
And with a cool wet cloth, He washes my face
Taking my hand, He leads me to
A new creation, an everlasting garden
Lusher, greener, and more beautiful than the old
Here the Lord says, toil no more
Here the Lord says, beauty and wonder will not fade