Tania Wiseman Poems

There is a thread that weaves a web of magic beauty untold.
On the day I leave for home then, my true beauty shall be shown.
A web of golden thread shall shine casing me head to toes;
of glory, great glory of the Lamb, a web of beauty then will unfold.
...

An empty place here now stands, of a soul that was once called.
Long-suffering and patiently the Lamb did search and everywhere did plea.
But sparkling was the jewel that day that caught the wondering gent.
In darkness now does he grasp, thin air, never the prize to seize.
...

My bride will be spotless, white as snow.
She looks forward, the groom she knows.
He is the one that will call her by name,
And in a twinkling of the eye, up she goes one day.
...