Weariness is not made from toil alone,
Yet if it were so I am one that could groan
With pain. Oh, were it not for atonement
I should shake off this weary gain and tent
Myself in the glades of God's mercy. Rent
Hearts do toil further still than labor
Seen, for they carry deep within sabers
From the enemy. But where do these swords
Pierce that causes so much pain to the heart?
Fierce wounds do start to fester and bleed, cords
Do strike a tune of man's reckoning creed;
For dark is the soul in suffering need.
Faint is the man that puts off to sleep when
Toils of body, heart, mind, and soul do meet.
Dark Night, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
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