Contemplating Kierkegaard

I too believe Flowers have more purposes than the bringing of fruit So that all of me is not known Though dig to the bedrock of my root And I have feared that I shall go away Before the golden fleece Of many colors set me laughing at sun, moon and stars And ever walked between the morning and the evening Avoiding Martha's doubt And the tears From the depth of veiled despair It is not evening etherized here But common dust When every atom is built by faith I am sick today And was sick yesterday And again they brought me To the gate Beautiful After he was swallowed in the clouds Yet I did not wait like Lazarus For I too Can be sick unto death With these two voyagers: Goodness and mercy On eagle's wings and loaded with sunshine Piloting me.