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Poem

The high and the lows, strife and blows
Through high tides, and angry winds,
Hurricanes and tornadoes
Life stalls, uncertainity builds,
fear beckons and faith dissolves
But with the last ounce of hope, i cling to Psalms 46:1

Daunting opposition flanks all directions ,
Laying bare fibres of my imperfections.
Trust turned to ammunition, 
piercing the fabric of my unsuspecting fondness.
The multitudes in my corner, merely a façade, 
amplifying the solitude buried within.
With a weary soul, defeated mind and bleeding heart, i march on, 
Psalms 34:18 engraved on my chest

Time and again, faith holds a higher price, far from what my  mind can afford.
The "mustard seed faith", fails to take root in  these  barren soils of doubts and endless worry.
The spiritual gives in, leaving the battle to the clay that easily breaks.
But in the eleventh hour,  2 Corinthians 4:7-9 becomes my resounding assurance.

Amidst my silence,  whispers break through ,
Not of man, but of Him who resides in me.
He walks the path I dare not tread,
He lights the dark I cannot see.
Though fear may take hold and shadows loom,
I rise again, soul trembling but with renewed strength from Deuteronomy 31:8
My daily reminder that He that goeth to-fore has never ceased to care.

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