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Lines that seem to sweep,
par excellence, into the ages,
Unimpeded from front to
rear,
Lend a sense of motion perpetual.
A wondrous and rare machine,
once with a bare-bones cabin,
Now lavished with seats
so elegant
anyone would find it beautiful.
A 60s E-type restomod extraordinaire,
the original low-drag coupe,
This rig, the star, would
be, of any show,
but imagine the horror, the blow
Of lifting the more than
glorious bonnet,
only to find no engine there beneath.
It is true as well for the
mechanical church,
when it's all for show, with no go.
Pause and wonder!
What does it matter to honor
God
with beautiful words from your lips,
When your heart beats elsewhere
than in the bosom which He equips.
Isaiah 29:9-14 |
