I sat at the feet of a poet great,
A single fan of the muse
As he displayed each gem
Of great wisdom.
About me the crowd ebbed and flowed
Unaware of the man in their midst
I wondered at those who loved the profane
And folks ensnared by the mundane
How could minds live
Just to sate the body and soul
Oblivious to the pure and divine.
Can souls so steeped in poverty deep
Refreshed in the spirit.
O God, what does it take
For the inner man to waken
To eat the Living Words
Of Jesus, a Muse Divine.
Gwen Leane ©