Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Just

Among the mountains, you’re just a mustard seed,
You’re tucked away unnoticed in the dale;
Obscured in shadows cast by titan peaks,
You’re buried deep within the muddy soil.

Don't hope to be a towering mountain peak;
Don’t envy elevation that they’ve found;
Just grow down low with me as simple seeds,
Together sucking moisture from the ground.

You’re just an ocean wave that’s run aground,
You’re just a snowflake on the raging wind,
But “just” is just a silly, childish sound
That’s meaningless for children of the King.

Beneath the tread of man’s indifferent heel,
Forgotten in time’s dancing, heedless swirl,
You're just a wooden box that's buried deep
And filled with lovely gems and priceless pearls.

And though they pass you by, like all the rest,
Though Fame and Fortune found a better gig,
A buried treasure's treasure nonetheless
For one who’s wise and deep enough to dig.

You’re just an ocean wave that’s run aground,
You’re just a snowflake on the raging wind,
But “just” is just a silly, childish sound
That’s meaningless for children of the King.

The forest land is made of many trees,
The largest flock consists of countless birds,
But some trees drink of living water, and
Each bird is loved and cherished by the Lord.

You’re just an ocean wave that’s run aground,
You’re just a snowflake on the raging wind,
But “just” is just a silly, childish sound
That’s meaningless for children of the King.

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