The Beggar In Misterjones
" ....They profess to know God, but by
their deeds they deny Him...."
------Titus 1/16
The old cracked church sat sleeping atop the hill,
yawning spire and bell,
the quells of forgotten voices past,
echo 'ere of failed prophetic cadence,
not a shadow of a saint.....
nor new revelation felt,
its brick and mortar fell,
stone by stone
Yet lay a shadow 'neath it's gaze,
(emptied old soul he was)
brambles for smitten tongue,
he begged in whipping wind,
rain for the tear-felt laments above;
if only love ----
could wake the bones of dead men,
this day of nights
There came thunder,
mighty rumbling rolls,
stirring ancient stone,
jostling bell and peal ----
the zealots drift to shadow,
no more ----
(torrid tongue)
will lift spirits this day of nights
There came hope just before eve,
golden carriage from Mr. Jones' keep;
whom but his very wheel alone----
could feed every soul far as the eye could see,
but nay
giving the lone beggar none his due,
passing him by for the church which sleeps....
(a bag of gold for yawning priest instead)
Nay,
the guilt of rich men has built this place
Written in 2012
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2017
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