Death to Life

Each day I would wander past a storm water drain near my home. As I followed the path, I was led to a beautiful spring where life sprouted all around. The contrast struck me. Yes, it's about the drain. But, much more, it's about the winding journey from death to Life.

Murky and muddy,

lay the remnants of the rain.

An undesirable place,

holding that which doesn't belong in the streets.

The water runs,

without hesitation.

Down the streets,

and over the grass,

to find easy rest.

It lies down in discomfort,

finding little satisfaction in a torturous place.

The journey is long,

to pending imprisonment.

Concentrated into a concrete waste way,

where no one seeks to go.

Lonely and desolate,

for a time unknown.

Death and waste rise up,

in invisible streams of air.

Marked by the artworks of hell,

creation misconstrued.

Frowned upon and avoided under the sun,

celebrated and gratified beneath a cloud covering.

Escape is found in the catchment,

quenched, free and flowing.

Wildflowers hug it's banks,

wallowing willows shade the sun.

The light glistens upon the water,

offering blessing and favour freely.

Populated and fruitful,

life sprouts all around.

A fragrance of sweet honey,

Mists the air.

Cool and refreshing,

to satisfy the thirsty.

The rain lays it's head down,

upon the pillowing banks.

Rest is found in Life,

gifted without striving.

Through trials and terrors,

discipline and patience.

Harder to find,

yet worth the wait.

A longer race,

where only victory is won.

Sins are washed away in the catchment,

Purified and clean.

From death to life,

thirst to satisfaction.

Hell to heaven,

home found in Paradise.