The Rosary Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

The Rosary

We shall all become as violet:

The color of royalty.

Such was heaven's wondrous design,

In our innocence, our infancy.

The slim rivulet

Shall lead to the Divine.

And to hail Our Mediatrix,

We shall all recite

In the bright, blissful day,

In the comfort of the sacred night,

To Our Lady, our mediator, our lovely matrix,

Our victory and our guiding light,

The decades of her rosary,

In heaven, as on earth.

(The garden of her clemency

Leads to eternal birth.)

Behold!

Beyond all visions of diamonds and gold,

There is a ravishing cloister near her immaculate Court.

It is one of a florid, dimorphic sort.

For Christ is one with her majesty.

Lo! Her palace is situated near the wide, emerald field,

Close to the vast and turquoise sea.

The blessed with joy joyfully yield

To her beautiful beauty,

To her rhapsody.

And near this palace of blue and white,

There stands a Cathedral of a massive scale.

It dominates the presidium of the highest citadel,

And is The Beatific Vision to all sight.

And rather than rendering all other gems pale,

It is as the sun, and emanates

To every gilded corner of God's kingdom.

It is the glory, the quintessence of all Christendom.

It is the shining rock, the end of human fates.

And in this astonishing silver temple,

Where inner blues and scarlet hues

Become a magnificent purple,

The celebration of The Annunciation

Begins with a procession down the carpeted aisle.

And with a perceived fascination,

The blessed walk a radiant mile,

Around The Trinity, praising Mary,

To serve the delight of Christ.

And after the holy procession,

To further laud the virtues of The Queen,

In honor of her sanctity,

Without hunger or thirst,

The universal intention

Rejoices in The Resurrection,

Near to the palace, upon Our Lady's dale of green.

And as Mary leads to Him,

So praying to her leads

To this realm of glorious Courts, The Cathedral and the meads,

Of things down below which remain unseen.