Meditations
Ocean blues of a sweet saxophone,
golden horns of stars,
everything simply gleams with eternity,
a few lines of a drawing and you have soul.
Stone is divine,
present,paradigm shift
the past in the abstract now;
oil lamps and roses
carpets woven like deserts.
Unfurled prophecy,
cadence like a forest,
creation is born.
Promises of tomorrow tuned,
music is truly spiritual.
Moods, moons, rings,
praise,the Glory to come
Meditations, raised
Cheryl Koomoa
© 2016 Cheryl Koomoa (All rights reserved)
Copyright © Cheryl Koko Koomoa | Year Posted 2016
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