I like to think of gentle things:
the sound of light rain on a shed roof,
the touch of a lover’s hand in a quiet moment,
the feel of warm sand on bare feet,
the look of a lazy street in early morning
with only a few porch lights glowing softly
through the fog.
I like to think of gentle things.
I like to think of great things, too:
the view of mountains in the spring
when every bloom comes singing
of fresh growth and new beginnings,
the sound of a waterfall
launched over the edge of a stone bed river
and surging through the boulders below.
I like to think of great things.
I like to think of promises:
words held deep and sure,
hope and redemption,
loyalty and friendship,
the end of death and dying,
tears wiped away,
I like to think of promises.
Some things I like to forget:
aches and wounds,
the tombs of monsters,
the pains of listening to the voices
of ghosts and demons,
a host of mistakes made and bad choices.
Some things I like to forget.
It is good to be very careful
in this choosing
between thinking and forgetting,
to be thankful
for grace and mercy,
to walk humbly
before our God.