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Across the mountain high
below the southern sky
I whisper thy name;
I only hear the echo of my voice
What makes a king
I asked myself
is it strength or wealth
or maybe it is wisdom
But even a wise man has his own weakness
for he refuses to believe his own foolishness
My mother said unto me
my son
it is neither a sword nor strength
makes a conqueror
but the pictures of those he loves in his head
So I say unto you my love
let's surround ourselves with the power in love
and let its magic carry us through our lives
for love is a conqueror
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A poem that mixes a long lost patriotic sense with something a lot more recognisable.Love.
Please could you check out a victorian pickpocket( on my uploads)????????????
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This collection, which Ken Medema calls poetry of “beautiful honesty, elegantly expressed struggle, and passionate devotion to God” (from the Foreword), presents biblical and personal images from a forty-year spiritual journey. Warmth in the Brilliant Darkness endeavors to cheer the heart, challenge the mind, and enrich the soul.
