My Fortune Is The Rema Word

 The falling leaves...

The dust through sieves..

The sunset over the hill.

All the scents, of God's own gaze..

Intertwine with favour to amaze.


The clouds that hang, on thoughts divine..

With sprinkled speckles, all in line..

Awake to dress, the sea of souls..

When singing raindrops, reach their goals.


Arise.. Arise... Oh wind which blows..

Quicken me, from thread that goes.

I once was lost, but now I'm found..

Now touch my voice, for


a tinkling sound.


How good and faithful, is my way..

For the earth encamps me, as I pray.

My fortune is the Rema Word..

To all who rise, when it is heard.


Perhaps perfection, affects my heart..

As shouldered flames, inflict each start.

My hope, my faith, my soul in me..

Cuts asunder, for I am set free.



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