francisDm,
Once the skies now down to dirt
From flight to fallen fatal state
For whim of freedom lost the heights
Alone discarded doomed to dust
Unmourned by soaring eagle wings
It lies untended sorry plight.
Sin scorns us thus makes naught of grace
and glory grandeur heaven heights
Makes writhing wretched wallow state
Inheritance through wanton ways
through rubble paths and gutter routes
to disenchantment final goal.
But yet like prodigal return
The sinner has love’s graceful chance
The Father waits and gentle calls
To banquet times and pastures new
“Forever will I take you back
Return to me with all your heart.”
terryq: June, 2013