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Poem

My soul, oft chosen compensate
does arc, soft spoken in its contemplate,
so chosen, like some agile counter base
to lead in thee ~ injustice to erase!

All error, that this timing could replace
to yesteryear, the idea seeming craze,
and yet, creation did decide its brace
to love you, God's decision, my last days!

For in eternal hope, the search encased
were then thy soul, so metered in mine placed,
were it a flinging forth, like battles phase
nor settled with demure,  brinkmanship's race!

Then choosing not my life, my death not haste
for in thee, I am thine in God's replace,
the item seems too small, as if abase,
one soul to have it all, thy heart in grace!

There must be more, this vestige I might waste
and yet it seems a s tore, pacified weight,
the soul of faith's implore for goodness sake
is held within love's score without remake!

So this, the journey ends, it seems the fate
to love thee evermore, where else God take
and pray for Heaven's store, and pray thy sake
does filter out thy poor, when thee awake!

My heart's last chore, to leave and not to break ~
God's heaven finds a door . . . others forsake!

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