Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Juggler I name thee,
My one true defeat.
O, that I could be free,
Yet that were not meat
Enough to keep me full;
For I've lived by you,
And in part been made whole
By knowing you in part.
So I know you are true...
Not a juggler, not at heart.
You juggle this, and that as well;
Attempting to steer clear of hell
As best you can with what life gives.
Where others do falter in strife lives
The grandeur of your success!
For you juggle each thing, bless
The ground with your presence...
Elitist perhaps? Better than peasants!
But in all this attire of mind
You still are very kind
To both those that juggle,
And those jugglers.
Might I suggest a bugle
To ward off burglars?
Yet all kidding aside,
Which is hard, as pride
That is thrown by the wayside
Is kidding for we who do slide
Through life with a cup of gin
And a smile on our faces, win
Glory at the slightest touch
Of the hat from a stranger;
Or is this all a bit much?
Like a child born in a manger?
You've eyes of fire,
A mind that's steel,
Though juggler's do tire
You never keel.
You're spirit is level,
Off key at times, but hey...
You ward off the devil,
Keep his tenacity at bay
By your trust in God,
Whom we both do laud.
So am I worried as you grow old?
Not that I know, never been told
Has my heart that you'd be ill
From excessively giving your will
To optimism and to your king;
He did after all give you your ring.
But more than this, you gave your all...
Your responded to Grace, to the call.
You accepted love from on high...
In the form of three children nigh.
So if in doubts, or in straights...
Give a call up to those pearly gates.
Say, "I'm in need of another store
Of patience! This world doth bore
Me to tears from it's mediocrity!
And from it I am tempted to flee!"
And he'll respond from behind,
Because God and your king,
Well, they are of one mind.
From this poem, I hope you do sing.
Know my prayers are with you always...
Before they were, now, till the end of days.
Big Sister, (c) Luke Bennette, October 2012