BB Grey–musings

“The past is never where you think you left it.”
— Franz Kafka

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Past clings like rust,
Heavy, it anchors me still—
A shadow, not me.

It chokes breath, unmoved,
A weight of despair, rusted,
Forever behind.

New blooms soft and green,
A spring rises, light and free—
Roots work unseen now.

Not yesterday’s dust,
Not tomorrow’s dream—but here,
Growth I can’t force.

Look ahead, not back,
Wild turns tame, barren to life—
He crafts what I can’t.

Savage calms to peace,
Harsh softens, dead stirs awake—
Love hums in the sound.

See the prize ahead,
Past trails fade, yet spur me on—
I trust, and He moves.

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**Inspired Write after a morning Meditation on Isaiah 43: 18-20

“Forget the former things;
    do not dwell on the past.
 See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland.
The wild animals honor me,
    the jackals and the owls,
because I provide water in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland,…”