Taste of Eternity

The embers from
     breakfast on the beach
          still pop and flicker.
The fishing boat floats,
    secured safely to shore,
         nets draped over the bow.
The morning sun's
    still warming up, as
         waves roll beneath
              a long-greening hull.
I nap with Jesus
    at the stern, one arm
         around my shoulder,
              one hand's fingers
                   combing my hair,
                        calming me.
I rest my weary head
    upon His chest, I hear
         His heart beating steady
              deep inside.
My hands clutch
    the hem of His cloak,
             accepting healing,
                  never wanting
                       to let it ever go.
Where I go when
     the night's sea's been
         far too much.
My now rest
     in the here, before
          the last cast,
               my taste of

John 21:1-14
John 13:23-25
Luke 8:43-47
Mark 10:15

See this poem @ His Newsman

by J Alan R
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