Growing Of Age


One not always granted
To everyone
These Lives are written
Under the sharp Sunrays
Beaming from an astonishing
Miles away by the millions of distances
An ancient
Burning star
One day set for
A doomsday explosion
But at ease
For now because
The Sun still
Shines on bright
The miles traveled
Stretch far wider
Than the years
A God-given body
Is subjected through
Whereas the wrinkles
Take on vividness
Within the bark’s texture
Covering the most
Ancient of God-made trees
Age in mystic glory being
A precious, precious gift
Topped and tipped off
From the highest of
Heaven’s gracious commands

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