Salvations Rests Behind True Faith's Gold Door
Salvations Rests Behind True Faith's Gold Door
Heart mourning under the cold starry night
O' tis the pain cloaked and frigid cold
And yes, it is far from the ravens' flight
The aching years, before the sun burnt old
Midnight cocks are out jumping and crowing
They walk about as if skating on ice
Yet we living still pray for the knowing
Between evil blackness and being nice
The spinning night sky, stars hang by long threads
They give off unreasonable, gallant light
We soothe our vanities by silken beds
And massage guilt by less than holy sight.
Dare we this, tell our brothers the true score.
Salvation rests behind true faith's gold door.
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
Nov. 1 1973
Note: This poem was composed from a very vivid dream that I had last night.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2023
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