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