Through the Flames

It seems the world cries out in tears of fire.
Will one aflame reside here, to us come?
Or must each one filled with hearts desire
Reside within the walls of Christendom?
The cry ascends to the almighty bower
Crescendo hits before the virgin’s womb,
She looks out in declaratory power
And ready’s her sweet Son for His earth tomb.
Dies Irae1! I cry and moan succor
To the dearest mother who gives me life.
Will you hear the wailing from earth’s hell core?
Is this creation made from thy bleak strife?
If so, dear Mother, tell me where I’m going
At least each step, so I follow…and sing.

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