My Hope Rope

The final stretch of outlasting my turmoil, is decreasing. Inside, the waves are no longer climbing, they’re waning. Before the last storm, comes the battle of the ocean’s war, Which took place, beginning on the ocean’s floor. What will my next step be, my goals and deeds sown? Jumping off the plank, thrown into the unknown? I hope I’ll find a sturdy rock, or dry land to crawl upon. Then with some hope, I’ll grasp onto my Master’s ship’s rope. I am pulling my broken vessel closer, to an unseen shore, For where there is rest and repose, I want more. There is still so much room I need to grow, For before I know victory, I must defeat the foe. Yet, who is the adverse one in my way? Is it not he who first started this delay? Go on then to the next start, and end on the stop before, Working hard for the aftermath, then go on to shore. It’s too late, so I now stand alone, but I’ve got to stand up tall. I’m too fast to break the pieces, but I’ve got to do it all. Ask and ye shall receive, knock and it shall be opened. Fear not, and you shall be saved, as you trust God in faith. For Thee alone, will I reveal these sacred nourishing poems. It’s been a lot to take on, but it’s still mostly unknown. What can I ask for then, a music studio in the art form? Or just to whistle a tune, and include all others in forum. I’m not trying to undo the glue, which has cemented me to you. But maybe an alteration of time, space and place, Would transform me into new ways of peaceful escape? I’d better remember who I am, before it is too late.