Photo By Gordon Richardson
This Storm HE Smote
The darkness consumes from within this fettered heart,
It has destroyed the goodness that love once did impart.
I can now, no longer see glories bright and gleaming shore,
for I am alone and adrift now in a cold, uncaring sea.
My mast, which was once sturdy, has become weak and worn,
my sails which were once full of the winds grace
are now falling apart and have been shorn.
I looked openly for an oracle that would per chance guide my way,
Yet, all I found was the silence amidst a sea of secret storms this day.
I raged in vain against a tempest of fanatical my delusions
brought forth in spirit by the tranquil stillness in the loss of my resolution.
Though assailed by infinitesimal measures of doubt beneath this obscurities sky
I shall not surrender to this darkness or its call for my unseemly cold demise.
For I will cling to the anchor of my hope,
I will by grace once again,
Be secure in a port of safety
And I shall smile in the knowledge, that for me…
This storm HE smote.
J. Allen Wilson © 2005