The Mills of God Grind Slowly

Posted on Updated on

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small;
Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.


There was a time that I knew when things got too rough, I could go home.

Then one day, home was not, and would not ever be.

Stoically, I trudged on, for such is life, for one day too, I shall also be not.

To our mothers everywhere who once were, but are now not.

May they once again be.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s