The beautiful burst of fall colors outside, coupled with Lewis’s The Weight of Glory, Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Rings, and Romans chapter 8, gave rise to the following verses. The photograph, like the last two posts, is compliments of my bride.
When Beauty Stings
When beauty stings,
the world stands still,
leaves dangle on strings,
light beams, divine spears suspended
through golden oaks and into me.
A wanderer inside a song,
a child beneath the eaves,
steps softly to the door of wonder
on floors of Lórien’s leaves.
Hope guides my hand,
the door is groaning
but t’will not give way, not yet,
the song slips, the sun falls,
and the dreamer’s string is cut.