In a temple Floria I see,
Clothed in radiant white from head to feet,
Soft pale hands and Bible on one knee;
Her smile beams on each who take a seat.
Within the room is finest polished wood;
All is clean, and walls reflect the light
Of purity, which sought, is understood,
For here abide the honest and contrite.
Peace resides to blot the worldly strife
Left outside, and solace eases pain.
Many here reflect upon their life,
For godliness and solemness do reign.
In the temple I envision her
Once the Spirit does her heart bestir.
July 12, 2020
for the Strand Completely New(9) Any Form Any Theme Poetry Contest
Witnessing the extraordinary commands a special type of eye.
A boundless saffronic type with cavernous titanium hues
and puce, indigo, sapphires will only scratch the cornea.
You must teleport to the moon of Floria and ask the moon there
to barrow a shooting star of brilliant vermillion coated with sparkling emerald, tangerine, bistre dust apply it to the retina and
still, even then, it's not entirely easy.
The moon must first have seashell tone ears of momentum,
choose to listen to you, and believe that you believe that
the unbelievable can be perceived. Good Fortune and Pleasurable Dreams!
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