Gold

The morning silver, led to sunset gold
The evening sky was painting all around
With conflagration, brilliant to behold
That saturate with colours to astound.

Gold will be used as ornament for kings
A money standard and a human quest
Of sifted waters, where the river sings
But not the Gold, that God for all possessed.

The finest gold is purified by fire
And, like the Saviour, prove's affliction's place
In the ignition of the funeral pyre
Of flesh that cannot live before His Face.

The sun will set, another Sun arise
The skies will burn upon another Land
Where streets of gold reflect the heavenly skies
And golden faces show His sovereign Hand.

This poem was a finalist in the May 2025 poetry contest

Book by Paul Purday

If you like this poem, you may enjoy reading more work by this artist:

buy