In varied shapes, sizes, and hues
A myriad from which to choose
Some stay closed; others open wide.
We all approach and decide
Which ones on which to knock,
But carry no key for any lock
That bars opportunities
Or presents impossibilities.
This New Year, is a door that’s opening,
Filling hearts and minds with hoping…
Oh, Creator God of Mysteries,
Only You hold all those keys.
We, mortals trapped in time,
Struggle your loving ways to mime;
Open doors that reveal your Face,
Fill this year with your Mercy and Grace!
Hope Ellen Rapson - January 2017