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Gold-Veined Marble
On the heights, in marble stands
a temple wrought by hopeful hands
to please the one, eternal king;
to sacrifice and praise and sing.
Then the night ... dark witching hour.
Marble cracks from hellish power.
In dawn's red glow our eyes run wet.
We beat our breasts - what we forget!
His gentle hands retrieve the stone,
mend the flesh and heal the bone,
pouring gold into our faults
restoring our hearts' plundered vaults.
The scars of sin shall always stand
proof of love beyond our hand.
16 August 2024
Copyright ©
J. I. Thomas F.
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