poetry landscape

I won't choose the tattered one,
made from the dull and repetitious
pattern of mortality.
That stifling cloak would have me appear
as heredity's pawn.

Instead the Father dresses me
in the garment of immortality,
woven with seamless attributes
of His grand design,
the pattern flawless,
resplendent in Soul's majestic hues.

Originality and freshness
daily sustain its timeless style,
and doesn't it fit perfectly!

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July 20, 2009

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