Flute plays, surreal and sweet music,
Green gardens and flowers bloom,
Shrubs and trees away to they cool breeze,
Smell of burnt wood after the morning fill the air,
Glimpse of the day, sudden repose,
The stream flows quietly through the woods,
Down the mountains the waterfall is heard,
The lake are deep blue, spiritual on her banks,
Sparkling fishes swim fast, in the lakes,
Down the Bayou, sweet smell of burnt wood far to the other side,
The river stays.
Her banks, the pebbles are smooth,
The air is different
The banks are different
No life in it shall perish
Water very clear you could see your past,
Water so clear you could feel your future,
But most in all, the angels rejoice,
Men and women come for cleansing,
There the Holy spirit is called upon,
There the Holy spirit decends,
There the cleansing of the souls of humanity,
Three doves decends from the sky,
White dauntless, gentle doves
And doves and doves and more doves
Fly in the air,
The Holy Spirit decends.
Amen.
YOU ARE READING
Saints and Angels
PoetryIt's just a short poem about spirituality in total sense, it's my first work so please check it out. It passes message spiritually and morally just in a play of words.
