The inescapable truth
Is that my meadow's run dry
Gone to the sky unbound;
I wait for the rain
To return it to me
Quench my drought
To let spring forth
The foliage of comprehension
It's roots of wisdom
Embedded
Deep in the soil of my conscience...
The unfortunate belief
Is that my soul's wilted
Pruned to petrification
A hardened stone
Where crystalline wishes
Beg reunion to the joy of God
Ever-present
But slow to a point
Of stillness...
©2009clarencecbess
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