Where The Birds Hang Out (Poem)

*This poem is dedicated to those that struggle, for family, to those who are confused; and to me: for a sister that has left me, friends I’ve lost, a mother that has forsaken me, and a father I miss dearly, my wife I cherish, and wisdom of all I hold onto. A man once said, ‘that if you don’t feel close to God anymore, it wasn’t Him Who moved.’

A Day of comfort is near; and if you read this and are worthy, then peace I bid to you. The world has dark corners, but light makes our shadows invisible; find Light again and open the door. I hear a knock ! I opened the door and alone no more. -Moraldiplomat

Where The Birds Hang Out (Poem)

Morning rise, boats can be seen; aloft the silky waves a morning serene,
Sand fills the earth, cresting the water’s shore as if they meet to open a new door.

Ripples of torrent water flow to the edge; an ocean of sea, depths of dredge,
Captivating to a few and yet this parcel for all stands stout.

This truly is a place where the birds hang out.

We all cannot fly, but swim it seems; we are carried to the heights by our hopes and dreams,

For the Lord Himself gives us a taste- we must glimpse, this too, leaving nothing to waste.

Brisk walking travelers go with delight as birds determined but not for flight;
Rods are raise and lines are thrown, and in patience we snag a meal condoned.

White caps from blue fields lunge at the new door of sand as cool and warm breezes fill the land.

Morning now turns to even; sense of peace and no more tears, for this land forbids evil to ever live here.

Water below, water high above. A mirrored image of what is and what was,
Gazing at the horizon- Earth move never not. Acknowledging the truth many have not sought,

Now floating above the water as we pass through the closing door, waiting, wadding for wet hills of righteousness to lift us up and out…

For truly, this is a coast where the birds hang out.’

Credit: Moraldiplomat

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Where Souls Play (Poem for Thought)

flat_earth_dome_souls_playing

‘An awakening to dawn mist on the water,
flowing spirit’s streams to God’s altar,
purifying essence whistles through the trees,
images of the sacred blowing in the breeze.

Flights of fancy from birds up high,
feathers of many colors filtering through the sky,
sun, moon and stars envelops Earth’s dome,
we birds of a feather, on our way home.

Spectacle of mesmerizing movements flashing in the mind,
melting pots of humans, secrets hard to find,
loving all ministering whispers on the wind,
no physical presence, ecstasy from a light dimmed.

Gifts of joy enmeshed in music and dance,
visualizing images filtering in a trance,
warriors in a drumbeat at the age end, catching away-
back to the Heavens enmeshed in a substance blend.

Wondrous dreams in the stillness of the dark,
journey on uplifting voyages in paradise park,
thunder and lightening points the way,
a prelude to the land where soul’s play.’

 
Job 37:18 Hast thou with him spread out the sky, which is strong, and as a molten looking glass?

Ps 19:1 The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.