Restless
billowing ocean,
a dark, impetuous
angry sea.
Tossed to and fro,
as a raging torrent
at enmity,
with the peaceful
tranquillity,
of truth.
What is in your heart
I cannot tell,
and it grieves me so.
Tempestuous
effusion,
overwhelming,
crushing
the inner child
who sits in silence,
grappling
with the
futile realisation,
that countless
hope-filled tomorrows,
have come
and gone.
Why art thou cast down, O my soul?
And why art thou disquieted within me?
Hope thou in God.
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Ah, but there are so many cays to redeem the years the locusts have eaten, always hope, always help, always love to us who love him also, though our love is flawed, yet He works in us through all those sad and dark things to bring us home. Thank you for your comment. Blessings, and i do think you are a poet!
