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At Secularity On Sunday
The casual Sunday (second Saturday)
postpones the week a few more hours: slept in,
late brunch, spectator sports, the mall's dull din
divert the mind. Yet Monday has a way
of looming large, a shadow on bleak light,
spreading its corporate fears on Sunday night.
A mere existence cannot quite dispel
those work-week turmoils that prefigure hell.
But Sundays, as the Lords' Days, sanctified,
preserve, alone, the blessings that abide
beyond the world's cold grasp, as more (not less)
arises in the joy of Holiness:
such that those sacred times, most certainly,
become a foretaste of eternity.
Starward
[jlc]
Your poetry is obviously very religious, and is not something I normally take to. However, your style of writing is quite unique, and i like it a lot! The reason I'm critiquing this one, is because for some reason, to me, it seems to stand out among the rest as even more unique.
Keep this up! Guarenteed I'll be checking back every now and again.