Share this:
- Share on X (Opens in new window) X
- Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr
- Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
- Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest
- Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
- Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn
- Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
- Print (Opens in new window) Print
- Share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket
Biblioklept 
I dreamed I saw St. Augustine | Alive as you or me | Tearing through these quarters | In the utmost misery | With a blanket underneath his arm | And a coat of solid gold | Searching for the very souls | Whom already have been sold
‘Arise, arise’, he cried so loud | In a voice without restraint | ‘Come out ye gifted kings and queens | And hear my sad complaint | No martyr is among you now | Whom you can call your own | So go on your way accordingly | And know that you are not alone’
I dreamed I saw St. Augustine | Alive with fiery breath | And I dreamed I was amongst the ones | That put him out to death | I awoke in anger | So alone and terrified | I put my fingers against the glass | And bowed my heat and cried. from John Wesley Harding.
Good morning rain
LikeLiked by 1 person