Oh, how those clouds lay upon her sweet face,
Adorned with heaven's make-up, the sunrise.
A thousand men strong, she's standing in place,
From faith in the tide pushing her to the skies.
But heaven is jealous, so can he weep,
To sweep from her face, it seemed much too long,
And the roots that she left were not very deep,
The grip of the weak, the pride of the strong.
What is left of this peak? Look to the weak:
The low who seek ways to pretend and play
As fools who would pray to rejoin the meek;
Will Christ remain at the end of their day?
"Oh, those clouds I see are within my reach,"
Said a grain of sand laid lost on the beach.
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Beautiful 🥰
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Yours inspired me. Just spent the last 6 hours on this.
Beneath the veil of clouds, her face serene,
A canvas painted by the sunrise's grace.
Resolute, she stands, a silent, steadfast queen,
Fueled by faith, her spirit soars to space.
Yet, heaven's envy, a tear it does release,
To cleanse her visage, longing to belong.
The roots she planted, though not anchored deep,
Came tumbling down, where once stood something strong.
But look not only to the heights we seek,
For strength and virtue in the humble stay.
In folly, some pretend to be the meek,
Yet, Christ's love endures, come what may.
Within my reach, I see those clouds, they teach,
Whispers a grain of sand upon the beach.
From my heart in ink still bleeding: have this comment. Thanks for sneeding.
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Handsome AND ARTISTIC?!?!
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