Come Beside, My Soul.
Feel the violet heights
Of God’s valley of
Prayers that Rise.
Let fell to the
The Lull of its
Glory Sunrise,
In, upon and through
such mysterious skies
Tell of the hues
That delight in all word
That speak of the wise,
Of the temples that
Build before
Indigo cloud sighs.
Oh, Soul
We are swept
like a moon
Before your
Shining bright
Ever light, gilded,
Valley night eyes.
Lift the prayers.
We are still.
…They Rise.
poem by Linda Willows
.
Thanks all my friends...