Pride

As is one of seven and yet it feels right,
contemplating opposition of such brings fruitlessness

Tranquil tears spill into wells of traded grace,
flowing into serene gardens of passive marriage.

A foundry is smoking; babies smile with innocence
impaling arrows of bliss and wonder into heart

Contempt of such is mere hatred of grace
and truth. Neglect of reality nigh' ages trial spent

Do we jockey it thgrough catacombs of despair, with pensive emotion peering toward illuminated strategem?

As the moon and heavens pull the forth right
into the open arms of a crystal laden shore

So too does your eyes force a swell of riches,
pushing itself into a waterfall; finding treasure.

And your voice traces tracks of constant addoration
with familiar headwinds, blowing a storm of rejoice

Still your touch, OH sweet touch, a satin lined praise
that pries open barriers unseen, drifting to ?????

Yes, this IS one of seven. fact cannot, and will not be abolished; entangled in covetous or greed

Sin so deadly compares to not of the world.
One of seven: in truth, alluring millions

A beckoning of hope spills out.... shhh, listen intently
Which poet is screaming out his whisper? "Follow me when you can see."

An apprehensive peace follows, none to yet have pictured
Pathetic prose pales in this Light, yet try I may to that day

A trade to safety is offered up by one who knows not.
Will steadfast, concrete, grandiose play in those waves?

Glimpses of the poets back trace images of envy.
walking towards????..... he mutters, "dead man walking."

"in that day, they will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint."

tim