The Tests of Time

May Mercy’s Providence be never slowed

or stopped, may it continue to be known,

so ice may die into the water’s flood,

and fire come to flow like blazing blood.

We spill in fountains at the touch of God,

His shattering embrace, blistering hug,

so that we may become the emblem of

impossible departure, and of love.

The incandescent hardships that are ours

become too much to bear, too strong, too sour,

leaving a taste of ash and ringing ears,

and, if I’m to be truthful, wicked fear.

That, of course, only if all is placed

into the hands of we who are displaced,

blindly resolved to journey back to Home,

but to rely’s a feat beyond our own.

Thus, hardship doth entail endless pain

if God is not relied upon, not claimed,

as is a lofty raft of meagre make

upon the Ocean-waters of today.


East Vancouver