Wednesday, May 16, 2012
As a Flower of the Field
As for man, his days are like grass;
as a flower of the field, so he flourishes.
For the wind passes over it, and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.
My parents had us memorize Psalm 103 when we were kids.
It's beautiful, and although I'm not religious at all now, the verses still come back to haunt me at times.
I had a powerful dream last night.
At one point in my dream I was sifting sand through my fingers, letting it be carried by the wind, sobbing,
and this passage was repeating over and over in the background.
I won't bore you with more details;
suffice it to say I felt changed upon waking, and this verse is stuck in my head.