Onward to the best not spoken, <br />When every vestige of pride becomes a prayer – <br />And the sadness of God is manifested <br />In the emancipation of collective doubt. <br />For this is destiny, prescribed and guided <br />Along the silken roads to glory – <br />Such is talk, as whispered in the shadows <br />O’er these lush and never-ending meadows, <br />Rolling long between the valley and the sea – <br />Where great machines adjoined in harvest <br />And the conflagrated ancient forests <br />Are rarely seen. <br /> <br />What is this man who’s looking back <br />From a rainbow-slickened oil reflection <br />As we walk along a wounded shore? <br /> <br />Go ye to the best not spoken, <br />In that place of texture, love, and compassion – <br />To His open arms that wait eternally. <br />In the liberation of dreams once repressed, <br />In an overdue confession – <br />Onward to the silver roads of glory. <br />Such is love, this field of thorny roses, <br />By the great river - onward, onward she courses; <br />When every soul becomes a crimson petal <br />Released to the mercy of the blowing breeze – <br />To drift along the winding valley <br />Across a mystery.<br /><br />Kelly Vinal<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/best-not-spoken/
