Pulchrum

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust;

The things that mortals made.

But still there gleams, amidst the rust,

A Beauty that does not fade.

The Beauty of immortal things,

That far outlasts our solemn kings.

It shines from every mountaintop,

And in the sun at dawn.

It’s seen in every rabbit’s hop,

And the shyness of a fawn.

The Beauty that will never die,

For those with eyes to see;

And their ears hear the joyful cry

Of hosts of Sanctity.

Just a little something I wrote, actually shortly after PEAK 2 years ago. I thought I’d share it on here. – The Roman Rambler

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s