By James Brady
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THE MISTS CLEARED


The mists cleared, O Lord my God,

and the Son then rose! There

before my heart and me stood this one

perfect white lily! 'Twas not the

Mother of God, but oft' had we thus

thought she might be an Angel

come to take us to God!


The mists cleared, O Lord my God,

and we awoke within a deep

winter's forest! The trees slept the

sleep of beauty, and there

were no flowers to be seen, lest it

be the one perfect white lily

we had so oft' sought!


The mists cleared, O Lord my God,

and there stood this one perfect

white rose next to the perfect white

lily! Snow lightly drifted upon

both flowers, but it did not weigh

upon, or cover, the lily or the

rose! Beauty we beheld!


The mists cleared, O Lord my God,

and the snow had ceased! All

was illuminated by the soft light of

a full moon! Never, Lord, had

the white lily or the white rose been

as beautiful to my heart and

me! We were with God!

So be it!


James Brady

August 1, 2019