Searching for… A poem for the weary

Dutifully searching

for the amorous inclinations

of what is.

 

Not knowing

what, will, would, could, should

be procured.

 

As muffled cries

echo back unanswered

radiating

a fictitious confidence

of futility.

 

Walking in concert with

hesitancy

as companion.

 

Uneven steps

languishing at the precipice

of battle –

no Excalibur or sword

forged in the

resplendent grace

of the most high.

 

My conferences

with the Lord.

 

He, she, divine presence.

Heaven sent, beneficent

no shouts, but whispers

stories told.

 

Burdens dropped

inspirations lifted.

solace gifted

to me.

 

The wretched.

 

Blatantly unworthy –

but protected.

 

Copyright © 2015 ShunPwrites. All Rights Reserved

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