Please do not convince me of my ignorance or naivety.
Naive to the cynic, the sun sets on my faith and all my eyes see.
Eyes see bright visions of dusk's inner beauty wrapped in sacred shawl.
The sacred shawled in heavenly grace, never shall cold nights fall.
Cold nights fall away, no threatening winds; souls laud in faith's armor.
Silver armor of faith lifts me at dusk in wafting spiritual myrhh.
The aroma of myrhh resonates from Eden's blooming floral praise.
Of flowering praise, a melody sings the poet's love on sunlit days.
These sunny days sweeten lives with hope christened in dusky starlight,
Starlight reflects love and an aura of truth, repelling darkest plights.
Plights from our darkest earthly nights are left buried in ancient dirt;
dirt falls from the ancient in sacred shawl, convinced they shall never hurt.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, August 14, 2012
for the Wreath on the Flavor of Dusk Contest