Aug 4
Life Abounds
Should this my tale be told aloud,
for Heaven's gates I thought abound.
Where did my isle of solace go?
This I tell you, I do not know.
Bound once again to trouble and toil,
Alive, alive, yet my blood boils.
Confounded, I wish this were not so,
For this, yes this, I did not know.
Of what to think, or how to be
for I had fallen like a tree.
Shutters shake like bones groan,
Alive, yes alive I bemoan.
To behold the Man upon the cross,
I quiver and shake, for am I lost?
I know not why, I know not how,
why I returned from the shroud.
