Poetry

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WHO WILL SAY HIS SOUL'S HIS OWN,SINCE ONLY GOD CAN CALL HIM HOME,
NO ROOM FOR RUDENESS WHERE THE EARTH HAS GROWN,A TOME OF CLAY
GIVE'S RIGHT A SAY,AND WHO CAN FIND WHAT'S REMAINED UNSIGNED,THE
WORLD ITSELF GIVES US FOOD AND DRINK,WHERE COME'S ALL THOUGHT
MANKIND HAVE SOUGHT,AN ACCIDENT OR INCIDENT WHERE TIME AND SPACE
HOW STAR'S FIND PLACE,IN MY LAYMAN'S MIND ITS A SMALLISH KIND,
IS OUR IMMAGINATION OUR FACE AS WELL,STAR'S IN SPACE ARE KNOWN AND
TIME WITH LIGHT HAVE BECOME THEIR OWN,OUR PLANET EARTH HAVE SUN,
AND MOON SINCE GOD MADE ALL OUR HUMAN RACE AND EVERYTHING SEEN
UNSEEN,AMEN HOW REVEALING TOO ANY HEAVENLY BEING.
Joe

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