From Which the Carver Stands

Thy Hour Come Round

Dan Reveal
I will always find a place to rest
in the fetal prayer of thy hour come round.
Let the gauntlet fall, the chivalrous are blessed
in the Jack and Jill hillside sound.

For we are like blocks of wood
from which the carver stands in awe.
Come quickly to my daydream bed--
see that all is good,
and I will never let the orchid fall.

I will always find a place to sleep
in the crimson caress of thy watchful heart.
Let the emerald throne be yours to forever keep
in the merciful realm of thy perfect plan,
where sorrow becomes a work of art.

And if you see the plain of day,
paint it with thy sunshine smile.
This love is yours to give away--
if only for a little while.

This love is yours to give away--
if only for a little while.

For we are like blocks of wood
from which the carver stands in awe.
Come quickly to my daydream bed--
see that all is good,
and I will never let the orchid fall.


{Come and stand upon this pedestal that I have built for you}

Published by Dan Reveal

Come walk with me. I'll share my umbrella.  View profile

24 Comments

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  • Darlene Levenson6/15/2011

    Omigosh, Dan... have you ever tried submitting your poetry to a literary magazine? I can't begin to describe how touching and well-written this is!

  • Shelly Barclay6/1/2011

    Great job, Dan. You never falter.

  • Danielle Olivia Tefft5/26/2011

    This is marvelous! I have a lot of your writing to catch up on!

  • Sandy James5/24/2011

    Wonderful!

  • carol gibson5/23/2011

    Wow!

  • Shana Dines5/21/2011

    You are a true artist.

  • Jack Wellman5/21/2011

    Whoever stands upon a pedestal you build must surely stand on solid footing because you are the best my friend.

  • rmharrington5/20/2011

    What a magnificiant line this is, "where sorrow becomes a work of art." This morning, while reading the generations of Christ, I was moved to ponder how that He takes even the worst of Satan's evil attempts and turns them into the perfection of His plans. Yes, it is a place where sorrow becomes a work of art.

  • Mike Powers5/19/2011

    Excellent poem as always, Thanks!

  • Angel Vee5/19/2011

    So lovely as usual!

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