Meadows Of My Soul

The meadows of my soul

tended by not but the sun

and stormy clouds that linger

flourish in seasons of calm.

Tranquility she is as a balm

that heals my confused mind

tiring at the end of a long day;

upon warm grass I find a bed.

There I wait and see in the clouds,

that hover above in heaven,

as my consumed soul drifts away,

all of the tears of God they fall.

Rest finds my soothing vein

that pumps blood in my heart.

For eternity I will be at rest

thinking of eyes from God’s art.  

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