The ancient poets past
Come to whisper in my ear
And I must take notes fast
Before they disappear
Who will read the words?
Or even think much of them?
Those with ears flutter by like birds
Hearing but their own sounds often
Perhaps those humbly searching
For their own thoughts to find
Without the words for speaking
Will be led by these angels of time
Sometimes I wonder
Where my words come from
In the quiet, I ponder
With listening begun
Studying the gospel is like- Catching a double rainbow; Each drop of wisdom reflects light- Hinting there is more to see and know!
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