A songbird sang
to me and told,
of pages old
and pages gold,
where flowers danced
among the fields
and secrets shared
were never sealed.
Those days are gone
so goes the song,
and time has told
as life unfolds
that birds still sing,
but everything
is not revealed
among the fields.

A bale of hay,
a majestic
cry,
a brilliant star
in the
velvet sky.
A stable wait,
as shepherds kneel
and angels still
celebrate
as heaven sings
for
the King of Kings.
A humble birth,
God on earth.

A promise made
as water flows
a ritual rinsing
of our souls.

As life begins
a gentle cleanse
for past, present
and future sins.

Lamb of God
our constant stream,
may we reflect
your spotless sheen.

I cannot write
without a rhyme,
possibly
in due time,
but currently
the words are mine
and I'm inclined
to make them rhyme
line by line
because I find
peace of mind
every time
my words rhyme.

A marriage,
a miracle,
a story
to tell
of Christ
transforming
water from
the well.

His first miracle,
her gentle request,
wine was needed
for all of the guests.

He is still trasforming
in different ways,
and
miracles happen
everyday.

The once great temple
Is now decayed and turned green
Where did the people go?