With eternity in His mere hand

With eternity in His mere hand
and the darkness in which there was nothing
He did form everything; from only specks of dust
you and I was in His thoughts
and for every thing that exists there was knowledge
when time suddenly came to life,
when He formed in His own secret ways,
with his gaze going to the last of His work
and He looked at man with great sympathy,
at the start of our history.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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