Intro. Cx

How can I, describe with word's;
The joy that fill's my very soul,
through my eye's the air or oxygen,
that fill's my lung's. The word's I
speak through my mouth, with
perfect sound.
Or! Hear the rustling of the leave's
Aye, even hear a petal fall, or feel the stillness
of a moonlight night, heavy with the scent of
lilac, or touch the skin of anew born babe,
so delicate and soft, or watch the sunrise
on a Summer's morn. Glory be to God.
Do we take these sense's as our
natural right? Can we begin to realize the gift's we have received.
Form seed, to egg, "and evolution,
this fragile delicate beauteous thing..
That is there for all. Regardless of
rank or colour.

by David Weir

Other poems of DAVID WEIR (1)

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