This Is It, This Must Be
in looking for the gates of heaven
i find myself in the room of hell
in looking for myself
i find nothing within me
i pass through all fires
heating and charring me but i know
the reason for all these
i know i had always been nothing but dust
charred, cold, and flat on the ground
i am and will always be dust
to the gates of heaven, i rise myself from dust
i am blown by the mercies of God's breaths
His grace his kind arms lifting me up
molded again to the shape of the angel
back to where i must be and must become
and then to his arms i am finally rested.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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