Friday Shoot-out - Architecture

Today was a disaster! Our water source (well pump) died. While I was replacing the motor, two squirrels shorted out a transformer on our street and killed our electricity. Unexpected company came to visit. (dear friends, who we were elated to see) So, my shooting is not done. This will be a literal Friday Shoot-out. Photos will be a little late. Until then I would like to share this poem with you. (written years ago)
After all, there are no rules.

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THE ARCHITECT

My early morning walk on the beach

Found aquatic gems within my reach,

Left, just so, by the falling tide

And The Architect, with unquestioned pride.

The sun peeked over the distant waves,

Signaling birth of a bright new day.

A cool ocean breeze danced with the fog.

Seldom had I felt so close to God.

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In reverence, thoughts came clearly to me,

That our lives on earth are like the sea.

Our tide will rise, and then it will fall.

What we leave here will be seen by all.

We will be judged as an architect

Of the lives we build, or the lives we wreck.

Will our beach be strewn with noxious weeds,

Or be adorned with kindly deeds?

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That night, while sleeping, I had a dream,

Very real to me, or so it seemed.

I heard the words of one dressed in white.

(Much brighter, by far, than noon day light.)

"Show me the beauty left on the sand,

From your falling tide as mortal man."

I searched my life and what it had wrought

It fell far short of what scriptures taught.

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"Father of the earth and emerald sea,

Woulds't Thou grant forgiveness to me?

I'm far from perfect; that much I know.

I take great pride in my children, though.

No credit do I ask for their great deeds,

But, when they were young I met their needs.

Their rising tides will bless the earth.

They are treasure troves of ultimate worth."

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Being the Father, He understood

The love of children and parenthood.

He smiled at me and said with a glance,

"I will grant unto you another chance."

When I awoke there was no doubt,

My tide would not go much further out.

On the remaining beach that I bare,

Please, let me honor my children there.

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Copyright Gordon Hand

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Thanks for your patience. I will post soon.