Friday, June 24, 2016

Poem, "The Preserver"

The Preserver
In the lands of oak and pine
the black earth mountains climbed high
into the mists and fog and cloaking clouds.

The mountain valleys wove
like wind thru branches
to an ancient marble quarry
yielding the glorious white stone
from which chapels
glimmering in the light of day
reflecting off snow topped peaks
the glorious harmonies
of their divine choirs
carried high
to ears of angels.

The love of the Preserver
for the people
could be carried by echo
off cliff’ sides and down valleys
to the ears of those near
that the richness of the world
and the beauty of life
filled all those who heard
and urged them
to carry with them
a song in their hearts
and a kindness in their deeds.

If you like or hate this please take the time to comment, +1, share on Twitter, Tumblr, or Facebook, and otherwise distribute my opinion to the world.  I would appreciate it.