A lone beacon sounds against sin.
They revolted while in church,
as shame slathered on their swallowed gasp.
The lost congregated behind concrete
gates
as the landscape scraped the
slumbering
from remembering the antecedent
of deafening decadence, lies the lied.
An unplugged mind unwinds in
solace.
Shuddering against sitting shoulders,
the stalls and slip of sorrow swing
softly
like a noose in wait of the wind.
They yelled the name of the Lord
with the helping yelp of a flabbergasted
God as he rested and wore precedent.
Had extinction run concurrent to
forgoe
the words of Holy verse, superseding
sounds?
The converts converse in allegories by
thought.
They sit upon books, with commiseration
in
wholesome dignity, rendering
underneath
beauty, hid hidden in suffering. Revelations
bequeath them to sing song in psalms
of nonexistent churches, as pews of
dew
reached them, early morning, with sunrays
emulating written works of the
Creator.
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| Image courtesy of The Atlantic @ http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2011/09/coffer-visiting-an-upstate-new-york-farmers-private-sanctuary/244765/ |
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| Image courtesy of JDC Teahouse @ |
Very impressive... I wish I had more time to stay with it. R
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