with yet hours to go.
sometimes it's just too much to try
to keep enlivened such weary eyes.
the day grows long and lights grow soft.
edges are lost and this reality somehow
seems to be more shadow than truth.
it is these vagaries of Sunlight that
beg the question: can i really trust You?
spent, i come crawling to the end of
yet another cruel day, desiring only
rest, but where will i find it if not in You?
it is alone this desire, the wish for
divine Rest, that speaks veracity beyond
fraudulent blurs. it's not that You are
clear to me - how could You be? - but
You become real in unmet longing.
such intense, deep aching knows no
solace. what earthly goods (or words)
can satisfy the soul's hunger? and yet,
however dimly and heavily-laden,
one catches of glimpse of the lightest of yokes.
Holy smokes!
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