More than an august visitor O Lord Thou tower, height-less Hast Thou chosen to be called a guest To a house whose landlord Thou art?
My soul's life-giver, more than a maker In Thee nothing separates both. Recalling Thy past presence in me, I'm left hungry and longing for more
Which way to Your heart, Lord? Not as if I've come to a cross-road, Just wary of the one I currently tread on.
The seeds in the Sower’s hand,
With time makes a reaper of him.
Better still the fallowed land,
And the barn may not contain.
I heard a beautiful song
Of course I could sing along
Before I knew I was drifting off
Lulled in the lyrics’ deep waters.
Everyone has got their special day to reel in
Pleased to be by the limelight about them
In incredible revel of a new found Gem
Portrayed as such at dawn of the morning.
How could I this tale tell,
Of a feeling I never had, or never should?
But mon coeur or ma tete, one thinks so:
That I feel all alone and ignored.
When I heard his silence,
I knew he couldn't make more sense,
Even as he passed the option of self-defense
Amidst the weather so cloudy and tense.
I listened hard for a crowd's timely cheers,
Raucous but yet pleasant,
I never ran to win the race
Have rarely done.
The aim remains to cross the line;
And not to prove a faster pace.