Rest
Would think my soul were resting on some stair
of guesting that my vision were compare.
Just testing fate, my only choice were there
and that gone by indoctrinating fare.
I could not rest, if not encumbrance share
and that small scaffolding of hope called care
were in my power and in thy need, not bear -
inquesting space and time were my impair.
No consequence define but that abreast
of wanting thee - I gamely foul duress
for its attempt to muddle thee, and so arrest
does stop some aggravation - I am blessed.
To stop thy hurt - I pray for some ingress
that memories prohibit not, nor stress,
some lightness of encounter, some address
that leaves thee willful, strong, and so congress -
I love thee - that my entities undress
would keep thee truly whole, in God's pure rest!
Copyright © Paula Larson | Year Posted 2005
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