Thistles and Grace

From dust we were formed

To dust we return

We rise with the wildflowers

And feel the sun’s burn

Not left without shade

Or water to thrive

But in toil with our hands

Harvest honey from hive

Sweetness from crushing

Wine press for grapes

Droplets of sweat

Proves what we create

Desires are shaken

Twisted in two

But gathered in mercy

By the Father who knew

Freedom and wisdom

Come at a price

Mysteries unspoken

His love will suffice

Driven from Eden

A heavenly blow

We yearn to return

To the Home our hearts know

Heirs to the Kingdom

Exiled to this place

We cultivate goodness

Shred thistles for grace

Passionate purpose

Cast seeds into ground

A harvest will come

In this hope I am found.