My Brother
To write in reams of rhythmed-verse,
full knowing angel tongues await,
speaks folly to some men. Small scratch of pen
along a page for ages well-compelled each heart
which sought to understand or hand along
some tiny hope of heaven’s view. When you
behold your Maker, face to face, His grace and mercy
full awash about your soul
- His wholeness making whole each hurtful, broken part -
if you remember us at all within the Wonder of His Sacred Heart,
beg pardon for our souls.
To write in reams of rhythmed-verse,
full knowing angel tongues await,
speaks folly to some men. Small scratch of pen
along a page for ages well-compelled each heart
which sought to understand or hand along
some tiny hope of heaven’s view. When you
behold your Maker, face to face, His grace and mercy
full awash about your soul
- His wholeness making whole each hurtful, broken part -
if you remember us at all within the Wonder of His Sacred Heart,
beg pardon for our souls.
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