That You Were My Home

A wide blanket of snow,

Stretched out like curtain of silk.

With no stitch line or edges

What hands wrought this marvellous work?

A wide sparse of land

Gorgeously adorned with balls of fire,

And dashing sparkle of jewels,

Like a bride being led to her groom

Always the same viewed from

North, South, East or West.

A virgin unravished by man

A chaste land that belongeth to no man

A sweeping canopy seemingly supported by the hills

Thy gates shielded by their smoke

A palace fit only for the greatest king

The moon glorifying his presence

The stars rending obeisance

The crickets and the creeds lending their music at night

Thy beauty teases us

For you remained out of reach

Like the promise of the second coming

Oh that thou were my home!

Oh that I had wings like a dove!

I would hasten my escape from here below.

Unfold my wings,

Spread them and bid the wind to carry me.

Then I would fly away, away to thee.

And be at rest

And the troubles of this world,

Dissolve and forgotten.


2 thoughts on “That You Were My Home

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