The Pilgrimage
the dark raven
beckons my soul
amidst quaint cackling of
the jackals mangling hisses
I witnessed flowers bloom
as the giant oaks
began to kneel at my feet
I witnessed his face
why I heard his voice
the mauve sky rumbled
the clay ground crumbled
at this beautiful coming
sweet Jerusalem in view
the clouds took a bow
as the sun rose over
the weeping sea
the earth lifted tilted
pouring salted tears into
the ravishing springs
leading to rivers edge
where naught is bathing
my heart on fire
at this coming desire
upon mount olives
Zion is removed
my soul grooved
the master's plans
created in his hands
a holy reunion
of spirit and man
Copyright © Yolanda Nicholsen | Year Posted 2013
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