“Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be…”
Usually at best….they live for only two weeks…
a few a bit longer.
Short and sweet.
At times, they are mysterious and ethereal…
beings appearing to be other than…
too sweet for this harsh world.
Yet it is because of their existence that we may be reminded of that
which is other than ourselves…
We are reminded that despite ourselves,
Lift up your heads, O gates, And be lifted up, O ancient doors, That the King of glory may come in!
Who is the King of glory?
The LORD strong and mighty, The LORD mighty in battle.