fastened by A. Paige White Fasting their way into the affluence of the spiritually starved but the fashionable shaped by what pleases the eyes and barely beating hearts thoughts as empty of everlasting as the kitchens of the poor through no choice of their own. they fasten their hopes on a horizon growing ever dimmer the grave our body's inevitable destination Some graves still walk about talking about the fashions of the day but what fastens to a soul that fashions itself of miry clay? 06/04/2007 Author's Note: Spiritual death I would suppose Posted on 06/05/2007 Copyright © 2024 A. Paige White Member Comments on this Poem Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 06/05/07 at 04:16 AM I'd suppose, too. Loved this. Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 06/06/07 at 01:51 AM Most intriguing! A different way of looking at hypocrisy. The line about miry clay brought to mind the song lines, "He brought me out of the miry clay, He set my feet on the rock to stay. He puts a song in my soul today. A song of praise hallelujah." (He referring to Jesus of course.) Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 06/07/07 at 11:24 PM They are likely to be some of the very people Jesus would try to reach and give an embrace of true love and a drink of Living Water. (my first thoughts...) ; ) Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)