by Judy Loedolff
The Word itself has a rhythm.
rhy –thm, rhy-thm, rhy-thm… a heart -beat
not in music alone, please,
take a seat.
The roll of the waves, the turn of the earth,
musicless precision, great metronome birth.
Keeping time, in seasons and years
Offering times of blessing or curse.
God hovered over waters, a steady hum,
Word-ripples ran rings, in search of earthen drum.
Sixty seconds, sixty minutes, a watch of three repeated four,
A bar of night and a bar of day
the perfect twenty-four phrase, for an Eden fall.
He created a week, in a count of seven. The Master musician began a syncopation,
where an accent falls on a surprising ‘and’,
one for Isreal ‘and’
one for gentiles …’and…’
For Israel then a week of weeks
Week of months week of years and a millenium week.
Gentile’s rhythm, kept a twelve and twenty four.
Round and round the merry-go-round,
24s and 12s make years and more
Then He made man with a rhythm within, yet if in His image then the rhythm is in Him
Man brought music from Heaven’s throne, that in a time before, only angels had known
People moved, to the rhythms they heard,
walk run gallop until a third, from a bird.
Dove’s waltz of peace was an ebb and flow, minuet or polonaise
Some danced in pain and some in praise.
Melody and harmony became a frenzy, a din
Storms, quakes, tsunamis and sins,
interrupted a rhythm no beat could fit in.
But wait, what of Eight, a white horse who galloped, in time,
a rhythm of hope with a Rider of Note.
Trumpet calls loud, as quick as a dart,
Bride’s head on His chest hears the Rhythm of His Heart
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