Clings

History clings to me, a mortgaged sleeve inducts the conscious reasoning to other strove. As head above the cloud my famished noel is reckoned to contingency's faint vowel. As spirit clings to me, metered exponent to use my vestige rating in my poem, Ah, love, were just this usage, I alone could conquer heart's decisively my own! But as I am so useless, this unknown that truth clings not, but ventures to be shown and thee, abridged by doubt rely on prone, I, also faint with hope, dissolve condone! Not patronizing faith, I so recede the joining of two souls, clings to each need. Do customize my courage, thus not breed, the faulting of my trust in God . . . to lead!