This love, enduring - ballast of the soul
is ever curing, thee to mine, not role,
but a clear stream of commonplace, of knoll,
that not division's grinding can control!
Heart spoken, not then of some earthly toll,
life's emptying - its prisons, its extol
is neither weight's dissension or escrow,
that carrying as to mention, only know.
Love's ballast - risen, tempered - Godly show
is faith within, the inner mind's re-vow
does save, and then does throw away the dole,
while joy of true love, living is enow!
Copyright © Paula Larson | Year Posted 2005