Rebirth Of The Dead At Heart Poem by Achim Wollscheid

Sparse, is there time, when troubles are few,
But the bull, often shaken, has calmed.
It looks, today, the weather is fairer;
It looks, today, pleasant and fond.
This morn' be a crisp implication
Of joy and internal agreement;
With the barriers, of my consciousness, widening,
Comes that dash of self acceptance.

I heed why such things are happening,
Though I do not understand, for what intentions;
Everyone does not seem to be in as cheery a mood;
They home heartache and tensions.
Where is that hand I held, for you?
That hand that clutched onto me
When the fight was too devasting,
And, over my head, went the waves of the sea;
Are you being held in its warmth as well?

How to explain such an unfathomable being?
It baffles me, to start so, in the least,
Because under no amount of human logic or reasoning
Can the mystery of this being, be pieced.
There is no misery too great,
No, there is nothing beyond the benign succor.
Many a tribulation has come, many a trial has passed,
But still the same, it is you and I, He stays for.

From experience, and from gathered wisdom, I can say
The tempered hearts will abide evil,
But no longer will surging hearts abide!
Woe! Woe, at this, did my nature chide.
A spring, so, developed in me,
And quenched every existing thirst,
And nourished every dying thing.
So greatful, was I, to this unknown spring.

So, so, hear me out, nice and loud,
You who suffer faintness of heart!
This day, come to Him who shall save you
When, from this world, you depart.
He will transform you to make you whole,
And in your times of sickness and sadness,
He will water your dry earth, he will undoubtedly console.
It is a priceless offer that many still reject;
They are cast into the Devil's hearth,
But give yourself to Him who redeems
And today, too, shall be your Rebirth.