Resting Place

Then truth must become a resting place For my soul When my thoughts scatter As ripples upon the sea Created by pebbles Tossed carelessly When my heart bruises As fragile as wings of a butterfly Ripped and torn as by a child Just passing by When my feet are tattered As painful as a soldier’s wounds Yet he still struggles to stand From dusk to noon When my head is bowed as Atlas Who was compelled to carry the weight So even the heavens mourned Because of his plight and his fate Then the truth must become a resting place For my soul