David McLansky

Freshman - 723 Points (5/24/1944 / New York City)

The Need of God


My soul is wearied
I cannot breathe
My fear surmounts
I’ve lived deceived;

What I had thought
A secure mantel,
Is sore revealed
As insubstantial.

The future looms
Dread poverty
Approaching doom
Makes a mockery

Of all the things
That I thought certain;
Time rips away
It’s masking curtain;

I have lived upon an open field
Tented by what was not real;
Now I’m subject to the storm,
I question why I was born;

Surely not for this random life,
Wherein I finally found a faithful wife
Who finally gave me the love I craved
As I stumbled near my grave.

I accept as my final role
To fulfill her wishes as I’m told,
To struggle on with a final nod
To my desperate need of the mind of God.

Submitted: Friday, May 16, 2014
Edited: Friday, May 16, 2014

Topic of this poem: love


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