Treasure Island

Vincent Barrowcliffe


A Blessed Child, To the Worsened Realm


Millenia ago, created, was the Universe,
Which He, with His infinite Love, would nurse,
And, an Orb, of His best imagination,
Of His best creation,
Filled with majestic depths of the sea,
And mountains, as high as could they be:
Souls, His children, departed from His Infinity,
Dispersing from His Singularity,
And in this Orb, after separation, still walked alongside
Their Father, Whom would they perfectly abide.
Now, in this Orb, of materialistic joy,
Lured by this decoy,
Have gradually started to decline
You, and in their ego, started to pine,
Committed crimes of utter fright
To other Souls on the higher realms,
And which was not in sight,
Is now at the helm.
My Lord, please send us Your Blessed Child,
Who, in his conduct, will be simple and mild,
And in this Worsened Realm, would enlighten
The Souls and brighten,
Every dark corner with Your imperishable Light,
To bring You, again, in sight.

Submitted: Saturday, February 09, 2013

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