Worry Not
What holds the morrow
when light makes way
And shadows say,
"Good day, old friend. Good day."
What worries we
are want to see
to touch, to stray
from us today. All day. Each day.
Our senses take
hold, us to break
our spirits weaken,
He sees our beacon. Him we're seeking.
Free us from all
concern is our flaw
at times most vulnerable
Worries innumerable. Forgettable.
So allow to forget
without much regret
and think on the now
on this be my vow. Too, thou vow.
Copyright © David Brooks | Year Posted 2016
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