Dew Drop Creed
written by: Charlie Bottle
@CharlieBottle
In the silence of this moment,
when cold lie the spent shells,
when men make cold words,
and colder steel their creed,
wheeling and dealing death,
as to war, they make a shrine,
taking as creed, cold verses,
etched in the dunes of shifting sands,
enslaving words, that proscribe Love.
In the silence of this moment,
when on The Hill streaks naked greed,
and men make this greed, their creed,
impoverishing the poor,
enslaving orphans,
and stealing from widows,
robbing the Earth of trees,
depleting, desecrating, denuding,
everything, to sustain Wall Street’s beasts.
In the silence of this moment,
when the glittered grass, glistens,
and ladybugs drink the mead,
of the morning flower, and wander,
in the shade of bladed grass.
when the faces of leaves shine,
with a golden sheen on satin green,
Usha (dawn) rises, from the shadows of night,
and moves abroad in Love’s delight.
In the silence of this moment
when fresh is the return, of dust to dust,
and those souls that wander no more,
seeking, giving and receiving Love.
I sift, through the sacred earth,
that was you, and I find mustard seeds,
and bright nails, and a crown of thorns,
I find scintillating laughter and joy,
embroidered in velvet memories of Love.
In the silence of this moment,
when fresh is the fallen dew, on leaves,
and as Love starts stirring, in waking hearts,
rising like the tender tendrils of a vine,
and irises, open in curtained rooms,
capturing the memory of Love,
that lies beside in forgotten sleep,
Love rises and draws souls close,
freezing this moment into an eternity.
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