The Gift, Given; The Life, Striven. Poem by Maurice Harris

I cannot stay asleep, my soul is stirring like it has, ne'er before;

My heart is alive again, as though it were not e'er, before;

My mind is racing, there is so much I wish to impart,

My lips are quivering, as they wait for my mouth to start

Speaking with the beloved source of all this beauteous agitation-

The entirety of my existence is wholly duteous, to the vocation

That is adoration of same-I am not able to explicate this any more;

Though, I do know however, that as time wends, there shall be many more

Reasons for this adoration, as time and love collect them, as gifts, to me;

I await this verity of my heart to meander back-as I hope it shifts to me

Once again, to never fall asunder again; this is all that, for which my heart,

Mind, and soul most ardently hope-the only way that each may possibly cope

With this most profound loss-as now I have only to keep the faith, and hope

For what I know is to be-my long-sought-for life-to finally start!

-Maurice Harris,14 January 2012