Poetry

Dreams
Joseph’s dreams sheaves of grain
They all strain down, but cannot see

Moons and stars circle round
Fall before him at the ground

A well of sorrow, a pit of disdain
Lost to Egypt, his death they proclaim

Servanthood, sufferings is this a dream. Will I wake from what I have seen.

Is my name not Joseph, son of Israel. Loved child, Bore of Rachel.

Robe ripped, artwork unweaved
It seems so hard to believe

Yet dreams from God, For God
Bind themselves, kneed, plod

Time patience, seasons pass
Forward looking, raised mast

Loving Fathers do not forget
Theirs sons, daughters, the yet

Stories turn true, a family reglued
An artists insight, a Fathers delight

Nations restored, promises up-kept
Joy proclaimed from those who wept

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