A Poem

            In this trek we traipse and tread

                     walk . . . wheel . . . whirl

                     to me

He said.

        Please

Come, Come

here, Lounge here at this feast, I want you here

He said.

Idle is pain, loneliness lies fallow, all sins are dead

inimitable truth gleams 

so bright 

no longer wrongfully rue,

There's only Me

He said.

                     

    Just be 

                    with Him

                    He wants you to

                        sit. 

    So aware 

    of His affable 

      love.