After The Flood
I am told the poetry's fine by some,
enjoyed perused that was their sum
and yet this flow.. Through mind and soul
I cannot own; not it's depth nor its Whole
no more than call my last breath back
it’s beyond the pale of life; for this wearied hack'
No eye has seen the vista's all'
awaiting ears that listen; to the saviours call,
no mind conceives the splendour Grand;
under control of the Son of man,
so are the words that spring from me
That are fed by water that flows by the tree,
where a brightness dwells not of this Sun
where the Word and the Spirit and the Father; say come!
© Joe Maverick 5-5-2020
Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2020
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