I see my Lord’s face in the scattered leaves of autumn Hear His voice in the rustle as they move with the afternoon breeze I feel His gentle touch in the mystic eastern winds from Santa Ana Warm and dry are the notes through the limbs of the mighty Sycamore trees
I was lost as a man in a vessel upon an angry sea Lonely and scared as the wind driven waves crashed upon my soul Desperate angry thoughts passed with each swell feeling so alone I saw My lord’s face in the foam of the lifting following sea
As I walk alone on the streets through the towns upon the shore Looking at the faces of abandoned souls aimlessly content I am fearful and yet wise they have always had free will I see my Lord’s face in the tattered clothes of the weak and frail
Blessed are my moments of sight and precious realization He is there always and time is as dust laid neatly on the sill My years are His seconds and my months and days His short moments I see His face in the pure drifts of the white winter’s snow
"Let every word tell; Make every word count!" Those words were spoken by Ed Fike, editor of editorial page of the San Diego union newspaper in 1981, when I took his night school journalism course at San Diego City College. Mr. Fike had a profound influence on the way I approach writing. I believe he had a profound influence on everyone he met. Anyway, I did not pursue a career in journalism, but instead became a tradesman, earning my living with my hands. Writing is my hobby and pastime.
We live in two different planes of existence. We travel two different paths within those planes. Our paths cross on both but unite in neither. By day we live in one plane where we work, we provide, we survive. We