That You Were My Home

A wide blanket of snow
Stretched out like curtains of silk.
No stitch line or edges

What hands wrought this marvellous work?
A wide sparse of land
Gorgeously adorned with balls of fire,
And dashing sparkle of jewels,
Like a bride being led to her groom
Always the same viewed from
North, South, East or West.
A virgin unravished by man
A chaste land that belongeth to no man
A sweeping canopy seemingly supported by the hills
Thy gates shielded by their smoke
A palace fit only for the greatest king
The moon glorifying his presence,
The stars rending obeisance,
The crickets and the creeds lending their music at night
Thy beauty teases us
For you remained out of reach
Like the promise of the second coming
Oh that thou were my home!
Oh that I had wings like a dove!
I would hasten my escape from here below.
Unfold my wings,
Then I would fly away,
Away to thee.
And be at rest
And the troubles of this world,
Dissolve and forgotten.

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