Bead prayer, Oh pantheon of righteous fields
Mortuary of unbridled sinners
Slumber deep upon the earthen brow
Abreast inside the vaulted tomb’s echo
Where sheltering moons whisper
And the sun bakes upon temporal horizons
Casting iniquitous journeyman to shore
Beneath the orb cresting sea bound tide
Oh pagan mother we are not orphaned
Nor are we disquieted from the truths
Where the daemon gods of magic chant
Under the Zephyrus wisps of drying snow
We are inside the breast of inoculate visions
Descrying under the wane of shelters moon
Calling from the fragrant perfuming meadows
Imbuing truth and wisdom into the heart of your righteous fields
everything here is splendid, Vickie,
the mental and spiritual setting, the point
of view, direction, tone and mood;
indeed "We are inside the breast of inoculate visions"
this is so so fine
in admiration
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
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Ron
the mental and spiritual setting, the point
of view, direction, tone and mood;
indeed "We are inside the breast of inoculate visions"
this is so so fine
in admiration
john