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Medlong Song Poem
On the seven hills, virtue arrives concealed -
The discalced cross the hill country, making haste -
A presence quickening the littlest of hearts...
Privileged to greet him along the rocky passes.
Climbing the ten stringed peak,
Untold souls in silence, harmonize espousal glory,
Not alone moving mountains, but faith forward with empty hands, full.
At the four corners, thunder echoes -
Peeling hearts, stripping their core bare,
With quiet voices - mouthpieces roaming the earth in stillness of soul.
In the distance, soaring birds in flight on his breath,
Lift longing breasts to the heavens in solitude,
Singing angelic hymns with one heart and mind,
Rejoicing in revelations of truth from above.
At the three tiered platform,
Between the hills and the sky,
Resting martyrs, concealed in his blood,
Bowed heads leaning upon the wooden beam.
At the time of visitation,
Unrecognizable to many,
Known only to faithful followers,
The Holy Face of Christ not hidden,
His appearance simply out of view!
Copyright © Medlong Song | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Medlong Song Poem
Stone pillars erected against the gales,
Silenced in buried secrets deep.
Hurled discourse from crested toppled waves,
Endless tattle tossed in a heap.
Copyright © Medlong Song | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Medlong Song Poem
keeper of the dawn, whispers in my ear,
"it is time to let go"
with billowing smoke of afterthoughts,
excuses cloud visions most clear:
readying to shroud themselves once more
behind drawn curtains woven in Love's insights -
so as not to be seen or understood from again...
for faith walks in the shadow of light,
in darknesses alone...
its legs are trust that coast it forward,
as its hands grasp for support in anything while it flows
for trust is still wanting as it is yet to let go!
Copyright © Medlong Song | Year Posted 2013
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