Lyrical Riffs In a field…
In heaven…
In the darkness…
Safe from thieves…
A solid foundation…
Where your heart is…
Carried in fractured, damaged pots.
Not the kind of wealth won
Or lost on game shows,
Or stored in bank vaults,
Or under the bed.
But riches that feed the soul,
And furnish the rooms of our hearts,
That nourish and nurture our minds,
And lead us down a road of
Grit, grace and glory.
Wealth easily overlooked,
Appearing old-fashioned, weak,
Out of style and embarrassing.
Yet not so flimsy as fragile,
And more precious than fistfuls
Of gold, dollars or diamonds.
The kind of treasure that endures forever,
And is worth every last thing,
Keeps us walking through life’s wind and rain,
Gives us significance, value, meaning and life,
Costly, and bought with a life laid down.
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