You're neither cold nor hot, he said
You're somewhere in between
You're sitting on the pale, he said
Surveying pastures green

You wander in the wilderness
And ask for stones made bread
How can my leaven rise to Life
When feet are made of lead?

The mirage of the Kingdom
So captivates your soul
But the journey to oasis
Is too arduous a goal

I'd rather you were hot, he said
Or either you were cold
But lukewarm's neither good, he said
For fool's nor princely gold!

©RosyCole2022  #LetTheLightShine