In This House We Pray

In the house of God I see Him far and near, omnipresent
So much that I can die before the life does end righteously.

In this garden of the brave, we hear of valiant knights and saracens
Fighting over tulips and roses like the prophets in war and culture.

My action is a teaching, my state is the best of happenings,
Going to the swaying seas, with dogs to love as they lap up the water.

This is the golden tragedy of my unified existence, this is my friendship,
This is my reward and punishment, offering some their prize.

I see him when in the lesser resurrection, then I see him one time to be,
In the greater resurrection when earth shakes and I shake too.

It is the beauty of the holiness and purity, it is the actual fighting of swords,
Clashes occur and concentrate their energies on the lame and desolate.

I am a desolate soul, a middle way person, to be in deserts always,
Already the gun is too old to employ in the rigours of highway robbery.

My action is to abstain from harming and learning and teaching,
It would suffice to build riots and harm hearts, rather than fall lower.

I have to act, I am him and he is me, I must see him in the hereafter,
For I want the strengthened limbs to forgo loss and almighty stature.
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: pray
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