someday we will speak again
without dissension
now an unknown tongue, but Then
a heavenly declension
so music is to us now
a mysterious turning of the prow
of the heart's lost, misty, and confounded ship
not meant for earth;
the Soul's so fitful turning in its sleep,
the silvered leaf burning
on the tree of grief, released:
the reclaiming of the deep,
the unutterable;
the starry door swung open, suddenly
unto God.
mary angela douglas 3 september 2017
without dissension
now an unknown tongue, but Then
a heavenly declension
so music is to us now
a mysterious turning of the prow
of the heart's lost, misty, and confounded ship
not meant for earth;
the Soul's so fitful turning in its sleep,
the silvered leaf burning
on the tree of grief, released:
the reclaiming of the deep,
the unutterable;
the starry door swung open, suddenly
unto God.
mary angela douglas 3 september 2017
