An early poem from Harry this week ... for Easter. The thoughts of H The spoken word #313 In days of old a bell would toll and folk would gather round, a man would stand with bell in hand til there be not a sound. Then speak the news in public view of what had happened - where, with gazed intent each word was spent on those who gathered there. The crowd would then disperse again with knowledge of the day, of happenings and many things of news from far away. Til once there came a gentle frame a man of spirit - high, who touched the crowd with words he vowed had come from Gods own sky. It angered some that he should come and share his spoken word, as anger rose the man still chose to speak - but wasnt heard. How dare he be for all to see a stranger…here to speak, and tell of things like ancient springs which saved the dying weak. And how with love just like a dove the world could glide on free, if each would share Gods own sweet air how simple life could be. But no not here an angry cheer the frenzied crowd moved in, they nailed the man…each caring hand to a cross for those who sin. Then raised it high so he would die for one and all to see, through eyes of those who simply chose to ignore his loving plea. As notice to all strangers who have tales of love to share, this spoken word would not be heard by those who gathered there. Now…what we find cross Father Time not much has changed at all, so sad but true life through and through rejects loves pleading call. And so it will through time until man sees his evil ways, replace his need for wretched greed with peaceful…caring days. But…til that time through love - sublime, if each could spread one word, one man - one day had tried to say, love finally…may be heard. Harry Donnelly. ~Easter~ 2014 To join Harrys mailing list: [email protected]
Posted on: Wed, 16 Apr 2014 20:06:37 +0000
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