Rhonda Baker, 27 stycznia 2012
The Seraph stands before the fires of hell
Blowing her trumpet, like a sea conch shell
Holding it in her out stretched arms
With all her grace and her charms
Her body glistening with pearls of sweat
The heat melting away, all the worlds fret
Gently blowing her creation to life
Caressing to form it; like the hands of a wife
The creation starts out, like a child
First small... meek... and then mild
The color, now she will blow
And her piece will begin to grow and grow
It's more then the sands of this earth
With all the pain, sweat, and love... she gives it birth
With her Aura here before the glory
Each creation has it's own story
And annealing now all through the night
She'll awaken to a new delight
Rhonda Baker
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