This body wears a little more
With every passing day,
The evidence the end will come
For this my house of clay.
My sight grows dim my hearing fades,
My joints are filled with pain.
The wrinkles now are on my face
To mark the years of strain.
The outward man is perishing,
Returning to the earth.
The inward man is strengthening
Result of a new birth.
When that day comes when I must leave
This mortal dwelling place,
I will a perfect spirit have,
A blessing of God’s grace.
What’s more my body shall be raised,
Immortal flesh and bone.
My spirit shall not be unclothed,
For this outcome I groan.
This earth is not my resting place,
I have a better home.
And there I shall have perfect peace,
A heavenly shalom.
I do not, must not, walk by sight;
At how I look and feel.
I must by faith look on the things
More lasting and more real.
This poem won first place for the January 2019 poetry contest