Whisper's from the Forest's Edge

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Whisper's from the Forest's Edge
Dancing with the Daisies




Dancing on petal's of daisies, never seeing the light of day.
Drifting through the misty mornings, laughing as the night has not much left to say.



The night's chill soon broke by the misty clouds that whisper "come again, I'll see you soon"
The night slowly turns to day; the clouds of early morning are faintly remembered as the sun shines still and high, every noon.



Daisy petals whisper from the forest edge, a reminder of days gone by.
Straight and tall solitary or in a small group the "Queen Anne's Lace" shines bright, lifting many a weary soul's eye, to yet unknown beauty that none can deny.



Whisper's run on the wind, speaking to those we love, words we can never say.
Whispers divide, conquer, destroy, and mend it is true, even today.



Forgotten are the children who once played between the epitaphs, placing daisy chains on every grave.
So long ago, yet the wind whisper's once again, wishing to say, "I love you", please don't miss the rushing wave.



A tidal wave it is surely coming, swiftly lifting and carrying away every child whose heart is settled and sure.
A rushing might wind, a cloud sweeping down from the Heavens as a tidal wave, will one day sweep away all who have trusted in what is true what is pure.



Dancing on daisies petals, wrapping daisy chains we played just one last time, before the ginseng bell whispered "it is time" "it is time -- "
Running away, sliding down the hill, how could we know it was for us the bell did this last time chime?



Laughing we ran, dancing all the way on along the forest edge, counting each and every petal, as we ran.
How we never saw the sparkling "lace" as one again alone, solitary and tall she sparkled and sang --



Each and every tiny little flower shown with dignity stood tall knowing full well our plight.
Swiftly, would the sun set, the mist arise, and once again, we'd face the depths of the night.



Standing tall, sparkling and shining bright the "Queen Anne's Lace" lingered scenting the air as only royalty can do --
Daisy's begin to bow along the forest edge, waiting to see, which way we'll go, waiting to see if we've yet any clue --



Our debt it has been called, it is due, have we wasted all our lives dancing with the daisies, over yonder way?
Or have we given our final, highest debt to the only one who has the ability to pay?



Every creature holds their breath as the tidal wave forms high above in the clouds, and the trumpet begins to sound.
Heartbeats, still as the horsemen begin the ground to pound --



So soon, so soon, time it will be no more.
How soon before we each walk through that final door?



Running away, sliding down the hill forgotten are the days when clover chains, and daisy chains were made.
Carefree days, we lingered, we worried over trivial things, forgetting our price it has been in full paid.



Forgetting we rushed ahead, never seeing our friends, and never seeing our family, as they dance along the rim of Hell.
Worried about our health, our bills, over things we cannot control, how we forget it is the soul that must above all be well.



Daily worried about this and that, trying to survive, forgetting that without Christ we'll never survive our final journey.
Still others forget that they are to tell others where to find Heavens' only key --



Have you remembered today to tell another of Christ's love, compassion and grace?
My friend, today, it may be your last, or perhaps it will be your friends last, listen closely, for we are nearing the end of this race.



This is the final stretch, the final stretch; soon we'll cross that final finish line, we're ever nearer the end.
But so to, my dear, are each and every one of our loved ones, even every friend'"



Yet, how is it in silence we stand as the daisy's along the edge of the forest, along the edge of every field, waiting for someone else to go in.
While the lost stand alone as the "Queen Anne's Lace" solitary, sparkling, and shining, not knowing they are condemned to Hell because of sin.



Listen to the wind; listen to the heavy early morning mist as it slowly rises every morning.
Listen closely, listen as never before, my dear friend, how can you not see the shadows of eternal mourning?



Souls crossed over worried about this and that, when all that really mattered was the unseen soul.
Souls lost forever, because no one cared enough to tell them they were dancing on the rim of Sheol.



Trivial pursuits, trivial pleasures we consume, gluttons for self preservation, forgetting it is all but waste.
My dear, listen, listen carefully for someone is hovering over the flames, you my dear friend may the only one who can go, the only one who cares, my dear friend will you not make haste?



The time it is now, not tomorrow, even know the daisies petals are withering, falling to the ground.
Can you not hear the steady drone of the coming horsemen, even now their hoofs beat in rhythm, soon all will hear, feel and see as their steps ever louder begin to pound --



Every day, every minute, every second, every hour, someone passes into the night.
How many will pass into the fearful night, that were never warned of their coming plight?



Heaven or Hell it is the choice, it is the final destination, this it is of a certainty true.
My dear friend, the clock it is ticking, our race it is nearly done, the choice it is yours alone, have you no clue?