Sunday, August 23, 2009

Eagle's Wings

A valley, bright yellow streaks;
by divine intervention, the colours mix.
Rays filter through the glass canvas,
an artist's dream of heavenly shades.

This feast is what brings me here,
the cherished visions, His work;
the healed soul; His word;
and the quenched thirst, wine and bread.

Full, august I sat, what next;
the lift above the silver sails.
Draft by her timbre soft;
Eagle's Wings, I'm free as a bird!
(To the Sunday voice at Santhome)

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