My heart yearns for a solitude far beyond an earthly throne

Even the boasting of a zealous affection 

for and from my dearests

can never bring the Peace being sought and confessed


There's a sting down to my deepest bone 

this creation groans for an eternal home

Joy, I see, can only be full when its Divinely given

And rest will finally be rest indeed, when I reach heaven


Yet in the midst of a path of wondering and worry

It is a bliss to find a tree who strives to be sturdy

whose shade, brings comfort, though temporary

whose grip, like roots, gives assurance

that tho there will be storms and suffering

and winds of worries will keep on coming, 

its branches will stand through seasons,

leaves will fall but many grow anew 

this tree -- imperfect and mortal and perishable 

is patient and genuine and reliable


It is a bliss indeed but more so, a grace, 

a grace so humbling 

and a grace worth a million words

but today I can only afford a poetry