Many Mansions Poem by John F. McCullagh
Many Mansions
There is a house that haunts my days, a house that infiltrates my dreams.
It is seven stories tall and was not made by human hands.
In this house are many rooms and I can't catalog them all.
Its chambers reach out to eternity and back towards the fall.
That which the mind can't comprehend yet can be known by heart;
The sum of all the stars at night would only be a start.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 1:44:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
