Yet
Have we not as yet,
God face to face met,
fearful to dissolve,
that we may evolve?
Our tremulous heart,
feels not bliss beats start,
renewed with each breath,
as love’s healing meth.
As long as there’s doubt
and dark desires grout,
how may we be free,
tied to our mind tree?
A dead man walking,
with thought forms stalking,
we yet pause not to
God’s love and light woo.
The question is this:
how may we find bliss;
joy that never fades,
in heavenly glades?
By cleansing heart’s stain,
we can yet regain,
the flame of our soul,
that we may feel whole.
07-May-2023
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Writing Challenge - 'Y 'Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
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