Resting Places


  • Pressing on with hope
  • That what I cannot see
    Will one day come to be

    In my youth I had striven
    To excel in all things given
    In after years I was slowly

    All things in the past 
    Forgiven, resting places
    Have arisen

    The magic number seven
    Opens the door of heaven

    A busy week of six
    One day given for rest
    That all may be blessed

    This is new to be here
    Laurel and rose with
     Poppies I behold

    Before I had not presence 
    Of mind to see the beauty
    They hold

    The briar and the thorn no
    Longer exist, giving way the
    Pricks to one eternal thought,
    preexisting doubts

    Prone to share this Heavenly
    Splendor, I seek one like I to
    Ever press on to together
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