This Crown Of Thorns

Young or old be ye, learn from the eyes and soul whom hast born much pain.

I wear upon my head a crown of thorns by which life’s passages hast ordained.

I sought not this burden, nor did I beseech its travail which called mine own name.

This simple heart bleeds across a sad land; one wrought of fairies light and so fair.

They all danced in night dreams amidst fleeting stars across the night sky without a care.

In my mind I sing the song of children: I dance in fields of flowers: I inhale the essence of God’s light still bright and fair.

Yet now amongst the hope of fleeting angels shadows come now at a quickened pace.

I look around and see the world which surrounds me and I see a world which cries in pain.

Those which know God find comfort, yet many so sadly know not even of His name.

Though I myself have seen my share of this hurt which continues still even on this day.

How, oh how Lord can I continue to carry this cross which bears so much weight and pain?

I wear this crown of thorns each and every day.

Do I care too much for it seems that every step my heart gets in the way?

Thus I call upon you oh God, for my own eyes burn of the sights at hand.

My simple heart grows ever weary of the pains of our broken land.

Would not it be easier Lord to flow with the stream, or run with the wind?

For I have no control to change those things which cannot  by me be changed.

I guess I can either harden my heart Lord, or I can wear this crown of thorns till the end.

J. Allen Wilson © 10/27/2012