Thou O sun

Thou o sun
Which tell of the infant’s glory
Lean upon my heart
Grant shame my sins away

Penetrate your radiance
Upon the hills of my soul
Melting the sands
That hangs the hinges fall

Shew me the path
With thy elegant brightness
In the night I thread
To thy princely gate

Let thy rays
Hold my feeble hands
And my feet catch
Your whitish beards as my walk

With delight in my heart
Allow me entry through the narrow way
Where feet fear not thread
And arms dare not point
In its brightness scourge
Where I would sit and dine
on your table
Evermore in thy place



About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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