Temple of the Free H felts/Sophia’s lover Long ago and still today East of here, not far away High on a hill for all to see Stands the Temple of the Free No door there be to enter in This monument to Gods free men A portal, one, on the eastern side Like an eye but not to wide Just enough to allow the sun A way to shine on the inner one For hiding in this sacred sight Waiting for the dawn of light A statue made of clay and stone Sitting, waiting all alone For once a year, or so they say The rising sun beams a ray Into the temple on the head Of the statue cold and dead Then this statue made of clay Comes alive in a magic way Uplifted head it looks to see The maker of eternity Stands erect and points above Proclaims that God is Light and love That mortal men are made of clay And all must seek the silver ray If ever they will ever live to be Alive for real and truly free Some say it’s just a story told Handed down from men of old The hidden statue, who can say But I have seen the silver ray Copyright: Meditations on Eternity / by Sophia’s lover. 2001
Posted on: Sun, 16 Jun 2013 22:45:51 +0000
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