He felt the need, that emptiness, that we were REALLY in distress,
Enough to bleed, and doing, bless, and comfort us with “knowing-ness”
Allotted time to intercede, He found a way to let us Plead,
We’re off to see the still-ness lie, beneath the sweat of tears, we try.
For Knowledge for us all is great, unless we only fill “OUR” plate,
each one of us, His own, to know, but stifled only, hear, below.
congruent with the things we’ve etched upon each heart he came and fetched,
With only a plea that we be His, Shall comfort all which aren’t, is?
Takes into account our pride, that helps us leave behind, beside,
A riddle, riddled with the rest, at last to give our even best,,,
Full well, He rests upon that heart, which Unbeknowgst is known at start,
for without looking is restrained, in all the pain not felt or feigned,
At last a crumb, a trifle bit, to come before the Master, sit,
Leave go away, but take with all, the comfort He leaves, great or small.
Perhaps ’tis why we fumble so, to help reach up from down below.
That Grace, of His, we found unfurled, and underneath that ball, we curled.
Curled up in ball and chain release, only to unlock some inner piece.
Did I recall that once before, That times again, I would be sure…
Tis with a roughness I recall, the only breach is…..after… all,
A transformation over time, To reach the inner self, Sublime.
The last line written by friend or foe, the only one, to know one’s woe,
is He or him to Him again, shall frolic in the pastures when…
The time is right, or soon enough, the waves will come, but not as rough.
Now taken here, must I end this plight, And give as His prayers
take to flight…the promise held out in the night,
The shareholders hold out for His Might.
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