The memory of truth comes rushing in
There’s more to life than stories we’ve been told
Repentance isn’t overcoming sin
It’s transformation found like veins of gold
The gold that’s found within the waking heart
Shines brighter than the gold on temple spires
It knows where it belongs; it knows its part
It recognizes all your needs, desires
Like Mary of Magdala found the place
Where resurrection means that one is free
She turned and stayed in quiet simple grace
She knew that truth was simply meant to be
And we can find it too, this sacred art
Within an open mind and open heart.
This entry was posted on Saturday, December 27th, 2025 at 6:08 pm and is filed under Sonnets. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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