The Measure of our Days Martin Herskovitz
ר פ ע מ ו ד ו ס י ם ד
א ,
ר פ ע ל ו פ ו ס ו ,
ו מ ח ל א י ב י ו ש פ נ ב ר
ב ש נ ה ס ר ח כ ל ו ש מ ל
ב ו נ ץ י צ כ ו ש ב י ר י צ ח כ ה
ל כ ן נ ע כ ו ר ב ו ע ל צ כ ח ר ו פ ק ב א כ ו ת ב ש ו נ ח ו ר כ
ו ! ף ו ע י ם ו ל ח כ
ו
We have perhaps come from dust But , oh , aren ’ t we are glorious ? And we may end in dust but in the while we have touched so many lives . With our daily toil we bring our bread to share it with those who have not . We are indeed but a shard of pottery , broken yet beautiful , who have joined today in prayer to create a magnificent oneness We may often feel like the dry grass and the wilted flower yet remember the days abloom and pray today to bloom once again . We are a passing shadow , a fleeting cloud , a breeze Which despite our transience can comfort for awhile We are mere motes of dust that hover for a brief while in this world but as we live , we dream , and spur others to dream with us .
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