O Gate of Heaven

O bars of heaven
Stretch across the farthest sea
Ever present like the morning dream
With arms clasped with young breeze
Silence woven with the afternoon beat

Bend down thy ears below
From the whisper
of thy remnant seeds in fold
Walking weary with the spike weeds
In the garden of leafy greens unfold

Call on the divine hand
From the throne
Which shone with bright light above
To lead the path we should go

Shed down thy grace
That part from the holy spirit
Upon the dirty ribbons
That we troll
Shooting forth
with endless smith and bronze
Tossed by the heavy wind and fall

In honor of the blessed Virgin, the Mother of Christ.

MO.

Photo: http://www.photobucket.com

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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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