The wind was sufficient to help him up the hill
Pushing at his back with impromptu gusts
He saw up ahead the break in the fence
And on reaching it, he quietly slipped through
No sooner had he entered the field when
A greater gust of wind than before, pushed
him so hard, he propelled forward and
fell face first onto the ground
The sting of his cheek hitting a broken tree branch
Caused him to cry out in pain
He lay there for a moment or two before slowly
Trying to rise up again.
As he did so he noticed something a few feet ahead
He stepped forward to examine it
Reaching his hand in behind a few weeds
He grasped the object
It was a…
The terrible disappointment of this short
story is that it shall not be finished,
by my choice of will.
Increased expectation of a climax or finale – gone.
Unfinished – like your life and mine.
For myself, I’m glad to report I know
what the sequel of my life is.
By choice I will be part of what is promised.
(I Thessalonians 4/17)