Wanderings

Words that came together and wrote themselves. I was just the pen to the paper.

Wandering visions, falling rain

   drowning hopes can't find their way.

Freeing thoughts of envious phrase

   never cease in longing daze.

Only hear the scoffers' roar,

   never moving through that door.

Droning sound of heartless praise,

   wait for glory: Coming Days.

Always going, flying south,

   forgive the one who gave you mouth.

 

Long foregoing life of old,

   grant me wisdom yet untold.

Veiled in seasons still unchanged;

   shadow beauty not dismayed.

Ever-present, ever sailed.

   Winds of gallant seas fail not.

 

Luminescent shields of woe

   shade by glory of the old.

Patient embers wait for light

   not from hands that labor might;

Waiting ever, ever more -

   now to rest my soul in Yours.