In the city on the hill, the world has gone wrong. Inflated by the accomplishments of reason, the people have forgotten the wisdom of the heart. There is a need to turn and take off the shoes, because the place we stand is holy ground.


To Be Where Angles Roam

There was a city on a hill
That gambled with the truth
When God's and banker's will
Were sold from every booth

They offered fame and riches
And life for evermore
- Just leave your soul to us,
- Or else, walk out that door!

The dust of time had grown
Within our scattered minds
The mirth had turned to moan
And covered eyes with blinds

There was but greed of gain
Out on that lonesome road
I bowed my head in pain
And took my cross, my load

I stumbled down the slope
In rain and heavy storm
There was no sign of hope
Until the break of morn

I turned aside and there she was
In white and living form
The meaning and the cause
My shelter from the storm

I gazed into her shining face
With moon and stars beyond
A sight of endless space
That has no earthly bond

I broke through walls and wire
With no direction home
I'd seen my soul's desire
To be where angels roam

Copyright © 2012 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved



Poetry by Göran Gustafsson
Read 466 times
Written on 2013-03-29 at 19:29

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Commentally Ill
a lofty goal. angles roam in squares, i think, and triangles and stop signs. :)
2013-03-30