The sound of music
Fills the air,
As gentle winds
Strum softly
On the strings
Of harps of gold.
Words golden in tone
Can be heard
Sounding clear
As the music swells
And crashes around,
Sweeping on and on,
In a wealth of song,
Reverberating awesomely
Through the hall
In a crescendo of happiness.
It is eternal sunshine
In the soul.
Come, buoyant heart,
Let us storm
The gates of heaven.

© Miriam Jacob