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Title: Important Moments
Author: Jared Barhite [
More Titles by Barhite]
There are times when the fate of nations
May hang on a moment's call;
When spheres in their mute rotations
May swing on a hinge so small,
That the breath of a spirit's pinion
Might unpoise a balanced world,
And lost to law's dominion
Through endless space be hurled.
There are times when the herdsman's calling
May vibrate thro' alpine ranch
Till the pendent drop, by its falling,
Sweeps down in an avalanche,
Till the mountain trembles and totters
'Neath the mighty force of snow,
And the lives and homes of the cotters
Are lost in the vale below.
There are times when the mind's inaction
Has robbed the soul of power,
When moments of deep reflection
Arrive at so late an hour
That they lose the force of their mission
In the laggard way they come,
And like withered buds of fruition,
Are lifeless, powerless, dumb.
There are words that have been spoken
That have echoed on thro' years;
Though the vessel has been broken
That voiced them to our ears,
Yet they come with increased ardor
As the years are passing by,
Since the soul stood on the border
Of vast eternity.
There are scenes that ever mirror
Their forms in thought divine,
That with lapse of time grow dearer
Till we hold them as some shrine,
Wherein are kept the treasures
Of Faith and Trust and Love--
A trio fraught with pleasures
Drawn from the realms above.
There are hours upon whose decision
The fate of a soul may be;
Though clouds may obscure the vision
And we pray for a light to see
The way that shall lead to heaven,
And keep our pathway bright,
We can use but the knowledge given
And walk in our purest light.
Let us scan each hour's requisition
And answer every demand,
Knowing that want of decision
Is a foe we cannot withstand;
If we shrink from performing our duty,
Or tardily fashion our thought,
Life loses its charm and its beauty
And existence profits us naught.
* * * * *
We know that like all human
Our work is imperfect at best,
And will bristle with imperfections
Till our hands shall be at rest;
But to justify our blunders
Or pass them lightly o'er,
Is the fatal way of inviting
A thousand errors more.
[The end]
Jared Barhite's poem: Important Moments
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