When Truth Is Home

Poets like prophets
Neither stutter nor stammer
Grinding out Truth
Soul chisel, Brain hammer
Their bodies- His mortar
Their minds- His pestle
A tribute to God
As in Him they nestle
His wisdom- their succor
No place left to roam
Mistreated and hated
There’s no place like home.

Copyright 2010. L.L. Shelton.

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