The Living’s Memoir

The Living’s Memoir
Living in the Presence of Eternity

I am just a grain of sand
on the shores of time and space,
a fleeting breath, a passing name,
a moment, then erased.

A small blue world, a borrowed light,
a brief and fragile span—
and yet You placed an eternal soul
inside this mortal man.

A soul too big for such a frame,
too wide for common days,
an imagination reaching past
the edge of earthly ways.

I always knew I was not the same,
not better — only set,
marked by a quiet, early truth
I could not quite forget.

While others learned the art of play,
I learned the weight of why,
while others chased the present hour,
I watched the years go by.

I did not choose You with my will,
You chose me as Your own,
You named me before I knew myself,
and called me a living stone.

You made me Yours — not for my strength,
not wisdom, not my art,
but for the love You formed in me,
and taught my mind its part.

So now I walk through rooms of loss,
through memories of pain,
through hospital halls and empty chairs
and unrelenting rain.

I say what only weary souls
are brave enough to say:
I do not want to see more death
along this narrow way.

There should be some small mercy clause
within the final plan,
for those still loving, still at work,
still healing where they can.

A loophole for the unfinished good,
for stories still in bloom,
for hands still needed in the world,
for light not yet in room.

If I could fight death, yes I would, and kill its cruelest tide,
To apprehend it, yes I would, and still life’s grieving cries.

But You ask more than sharpened swords
or fury dressed as might—
You ask me simply to love and dwell
in its shadow while there’s yet light.

To sow compassion in a world of shade,
and walk humbly before Thee,
to finish not the whole wide world,
but what You gave to me.

So hear this small and honest prayer
from sand that dares to trust:
Do not let all this heart be lost,
nor wasted in the dust.

And when, alas, my time has come,
and I sail away from shore,
May I remember this was never meant
to be a life of more—

My eternity begins
where flesh at last must cease.
And if you hear whispers say
that I am gone, just simply don’t believe it.