Such praise, but these scenes are texts of beauty! <br /> There's no painting half so alluring <br /> Nor any depiction by novelist Faulkner <br /> Can array the soul of God without words. <br /> But, why must these things become a creepy dust, <br /> laden with fears, crumbled with tears, <br /> withered frames that are rivets of pain, <br /> A conscience without consciousness of fear. <br /> But, thus, is the formation of such a mental state <br /> in minds that mate, <br /> And this very earth buffets these endearments in <br /> accordance to a given faith: <br /> This invalidism of beauty lies within <br /> And corrugates the soul: <br /> The tentacles of mankind become a medium of love <br /> And Christianity is increased two-hundred fold: <br /> The dogmas of trees contain the wisdom of God <br /> But how many men understand?<br /><br />Charles Lamar Nelson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/refuge-in-oxford/
