Spiritual Journeys |
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mourn of autumn's day |
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VAS Member Rara Avis
since 2000-11-16
Posts 7450Oregon |
tis the morn of autumn’s day many stand, still in the fray the ebb of horror that felled real lives propels the search for who survives until the heap of rubble’s gone prayers shall continue on their essence shall, perhaps, see change our thoughts and hopes may rearrange from finding life in that deep dark pit to hoping for the end of it then learning those who met demise bore no pain yet found the prize the prize of the golden ring where streets are gold and angels sing where praises stretch the span of time not measured in the beats of rhyme yet seasoned reason sates their souls and sin is not but empty holes remnants left, perfected lives as His will reigns and hope survives my heart, my heart's a metronome its constant beat as life intones rhythm's steady, faithful, true just as my prayers I lift for you |
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© Copyright 2001 Virginia Salter - All Rights Reserved | |||
BSC
Moderator
Member Elite
since 2000-02-04
Posts 2919New York, USA |
Simply a beautiful write about such tragic events... Thanks for sharing this. Bonnie |
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Joyce Johnson![]() ![]()
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
A heartfelt piece, VAS. Joyce |
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BloomingRose Member Elite
since 2000-08-09
Posts 3092Florida |
the prize of the golden ring where streets are gold and angels sing where praises stretch the span of time not measured in the beats of rhyme ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is our hope. Though we mourn and suffer still, our hope is in HIM. Thank you for this heartfelt poem. Hugs, Deb |
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