Walking home when lights have dimmed, something glittered among a tree. Maybe my eyes were tired and playing tricks on me, but no, they are shiny paper cut-outs hanging on that singular tree. And it was beautiful at that eleventh hour for me.
Walking home, crossing quietly filled parking lots, no engines roaring and no warm exhaust brewing.. The skies opened up to stars that my eyes looked their filled but still have more to see. And it was beautiful at that eleventh hour for me.
Walking home to my bed, had a nice warm shower, had a deep scrub, had a comfortable rub of my towel. I lay in bed and marvel at the comforts I have. And it was beautiful at that eleventh hour for me.
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No matter what I lack, I already lack less than others. And if it isn't meant to be mine, You have already provided more than I deserved. And if I require more, I shall ask and wait, for You will deliver. It is a matter of grace and faith.
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