Progression of Desire

Tired bone and sorrowed hand,

Make of thee all that you can.

Build thy life of hope and tear,

Of all thy love and all thy fear.

 

Restless soul and weary mind,

You’ve found one made of your kind,

To calm thy life and rest thy thought,

For lovely fear is a fear much sought.

 

Oh silly fear and foolish love,

You’ve let thy heart be overcome,

By one you thought would do no wrong,

And now you’ve passed like quiet song.

 

Tired bone and sorrowed hand,

I’ve come to be all that I can.

Despite the persistence of lovely fear,

I’ve slept unto death but not reached there.

This poem is about: 
Me

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