"Watermark" a poem by Leslie Pressley

Barefeet in the lake, a touch with my toe to test the cold,
a ripple glides and rolls outward from the start,
taking in the reflections of the sky, where does the sky and water end?
On the horizon, a line of perfection stretches where there are no two parts.

Leaves rustle in the breeze, as an applause for the Maker,
God the Father rules over all of nature and it sings for Him each day,
Praises from the formation of His hands exude through the zephyr,
upward through the bliss above, at His feet they lay.

A Virtuoso, my Father is, His capacity overtakes me,
mere words aren't enough for my appreciation of His brilliance,
He requires all of genesis to praise Him in everyway,
to be still in acknowledgement of who He is, His praise is in the silence.

Looking down against the dock, man-made, worn board,
noticing a line of cessation, where the water has risen and subsided,
an ever distinguished permanent stain, where the waters have pushed too hard,
reminds me of my Savior, and for my life He died.

As life pushes so hard against the worn boards,
life is exerted and pushed and leaves with it a dark stain.
A mark of testing, but just enough,  for too much would overtake,
a reminder is there, as our Savior looks on our pain.

A watermark, a definitive end of the violence of trials.
My Jesus was the final end to sin and death,
our Hope, He is, for life eternal,
may my Maker, in me, see a watermark when I take my final breath.

The watermark shows Him that endurance has occurred,
He sees perserverance in the flow of the current,
and a finish is certain and eminent to know,
that I will see Him one day in the firmament.