Bestowed with tools bequeath,
Employ we must till rest,
To traverse life's hideous ways,
Survive the path at best,
Oft wonder do I walk alone?
The near hits and misses suggest,
Is it a lack of timing?
That seperates failure from success,
Or is the path of destiny preordained?
As I labor in vain through the test,
Or is it in His wakefulness that we passage life,
And but for the hints and cues, the inner voice,
Still lurking is my quest,
For the mind can but lose its sense in toys,
And fear can cower to submission,
There is but a semblance to hold on to,
Will the Angler reveal Himself?
Just one of his many varied forms,
I pray to be reassured I walk in His wake,
We're more to life than just hooked-on baits,
Games tossed onto an arena of predators,
I need to feel His watchfulness,
Unveil, unravel the mystery,
For the luminance of the sun in its godly glory,
Stands unabated in giving,
Wherefore do Thou shy away?
If Thou showerth all?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Many honest right needs captured here. I identified with your yearning and the challenge of tests.good work