Didst thou behold an angel ? ? ? 


some holy ambassador who expounded unto thee e'er this day befell?


Which of the charished Charubs of Heaven hath shown thee


how seas of sadness wouldst be graced by triumph's turning tides,


thus fassioning brightest Heaven from darkest Hell?




Seeest thou the unfailing light of the flaming toarch


which, hither unto me was passed?


Or, didst thou rather behold, despite the endless night of years hence,


that hands of dawn would yet hold fast?


For 'neath thy rough and ready rock of wit,


there lieth that pure and priceless, precious gold of thine own heart's encouragement.




Yay, soundly hidden 'neath that ever-present shell,


the gloss and dross of seeming sharpened sport,


I find ne'er hint of folly,


but behold thine array of shimmering pearls,


fit to be clad of kingly cort.




And hast that beeing caused thine heart to see,


who wouldst thy words, as blissful blossoms bless ? ? ?


Eternal thanks to God and thee,


for changing depths of darkest, blackest pitch,


into golden, glorious dawn's charished caress.




(Page and Poem Copyright 2004 by Quipster

All Rights Reserved.)

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