Soul Groaneth

Groaneth my soul
so let it be
for she beckons not
to my command
nor yields to
thee
my yea nay no rudder
of importance this day
for the soul
runs her own course
on fast braided day
the footrace of day
she doth select at her whim
like a princess
with chocolate
she tempers not her will
soul groaneth
so let it
she obeys not my
will
she turneth and runneth
about as she wills
my soul pines in
heaped languish
in bed of wet earth
embedded in mire
not exchangeable for mirth
least not at my cry
nor summon nor plea
for sadness my portion
my lot plight and tree
to shelter me
and shade me
from stary bright filled nights
to shadow and dim me from
sun bursting bright
to canopy indeed
the hope dimming lite
soul groaneth
so let it
I hold not the kings name
soul groaneth
so let it
my voice carries not
for my sword
holds no power
to sanctify me
and set me
on ground
nested in peace
buffet me and haunt me
soul
do as you please
for I hail not the kings voice
nor stature of plea
soul groaneth
so be it
just let it be

Rodney Evan Bohen