Vision

I saw York Minster, felt its cloak of grace
The memory of God who was a Word
The Bible where there is a feeble trac
e

If we love, we may wish to embrace
The spirits and heart both gently stirred
I saw York Minster, felt its cloak of grace

Do not befriend another in great haste
Love may launch itself like a small bird
From the Ark where there is still a trace

These symbols are mostl potent in their space
The holy spirit alters as it’s heard
In Cathedrals in their cloaks of grace

I am become a cynic, bitter taste.
Death is the religion of these years
We need an Ark to save the human race

To be alive for many’s bleak and hard
Once we see the remnants of the charred
Compare the Minster, and its manmade grace
With the Bible’s golden and pure space

I welcome comments and criticism

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.