Hung JuryA Poem by PeteOn the question of God, we are who we are and he is who he is. "We do not live by justice, but by grace." - ThoreauTo feud with life is futile. The scales of man's justice are jaundiced. The world cannot offer me a fair trial. Can the hills be handcuffed? A cloud captured? The sea sequestered? Would an iceberg be interrogated? Should snow be self-incriminated in a sidebar? Will the sublime be seized or sentenced? The sun summoned and searched? Are the seasons subject to subpoena? Can a crooked stream be straightened? Night and day reversed? Hence can the horizon haggle and be hailed hypocritical? Could Heaven and Hell ever be held in contempt? Baptism bartered with? Truth needs no defense or explanation. Love abides by no laws. They simply are. Faith and free will answer to no one but the creator. Are well worth their cost. I wade in the river of righteousness. Stroll through the meadow of mercy. With the wind as my witness. The rain rendering redemption. The forest offering freedom. The moon is my magistrate. A bluejay my bailiff. Only the junipers may sit in judgement. The glorious glow of Jupiter dispenses its deposition. Gravity in its glorious glow. Even the stars shed light in darkness and decree what is just. Sanctioned by the gavel of the almighty. His tree's fruit offers no appeal. Other than what is right and real. The verdict is creed. The court of the cosmos is in session. All else is nothing but a ... ... hung jury ... © 2018 PeteAuthor's Note
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Added on April 16, 2018Last Updated on April 19, 2018 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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