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
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