Of these things my heart doth crave,
some to which I am a slave
Which is worth carrying from life to grave?
Of these things to which I strive,
others upon which I thrive
which is worthy of credit for why I am alive?
Of these things upon my heart,
and those for which my rise will start
which of them defines a role in which I will eternally take part?
My feet walk endless miles,
through various troubles and Satan's wiles
What entries will remain in my life's recorded files?
As I calculate the costs
of all my spirit has lost
when my child suffered unkind fate, my eyes a teary gloss
Is it just a thing, a vaporous gas
that in a time so soon shall pass?
Care not for tomorrow - only eternal things will last.
Among these things I count the rainbow;
its hue, its span, its magnificent glow.
Though I must needs cross torrent rains with tears I'll never show.
I continue on, I carry these things. Which I need who can know?
Wealth, health, love and laughter,
all manner of things which I chase after.
Which draw and hold my averted gaze from truth and will of my life's crafter.
Suppose I change my simple things,
avoiding those which come with strings.
or other milestones which I surpassed exceeding costs of wedding rings.
I now break an uncommitted word,
never put to text such things unheard.
Yet there rises in me a thing now stirred
despite a path both stony and blurred.
I search out a "Thee"
which resides in me
who calls beyond these things "Be Free!"
And long to know a saviors rest, I approach it now on bended knee.
by Thelonius D. Chestang