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Wednesday, September 28, 2022

"bright air"... a poem


bright air

i am in a peace of wheatfield,
filled up with the fresh air,
blooming with the leafs of the mustard tree,
rejoicing over everlasting life,
in the faded ruby indigo chair,
sipping tea with both my hands,
the strawberry hues are a great delight,
such a remarkable taste. i celebrate how He has saved me.
there is water you drink and never grow thirsty again,
in the peace of the love of the Lamb.
i am in the peace of cylindrical motion,
as quietly i take the cup.
she told me to just take my blessed time slow.
there is bread you eat and never grow hungry again.

by Ryan Ventriloquist

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