Monday, January 02, 2006

The Inner Soul of Po






The Inner Soul of Poetry
By Peter A. Todd 4/03/03


Words are but simple thoughts
Unless they are born of the heart and soul
Of money Poetry can’t be bought
It’s the inner being of my existence unfold
They can be short like the shutting off light
Or be like a pebble rippling in stream
Describing our fears of the night
Or the passing on of a wonderful dream
It’s the finality of a loving touch
As two lovers walk along the golden sand
Or the walking trails in woodland rough
Joined in grace by the touch of God’s hand
Poetry is like the whispering winds
That cleanses the path of life
It’s free of any violence or sins
It’s the reflection of Heavens light
So my inner being is the reality of faith
That my heritage passed into my soul
Truly the words of the heart are of God’s grace
It’s the reflection of our Savior to soon unfold

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