November Road

Curtain-like the grey clouds roll,
As in the dusk companions stole.
Miles behind and more ahead,
E’er pain or cold the plan to tread.

Fair flowers stood against the wind,
Round garden known for food and friend.
Observing night, they did return;
Moved to rest for sleep to earn.

Awake, alive, when dawn did break,
Five souls emerged, a mark to make.
And when the distance long had passed,
Received to cheers–home at last.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

‘Hind the veil, actors rest;
Eager for the plot to crest.
As ships o’er waves forward come,
Reaching for land and eastern sun.
Toward hope they set and bear tribute,
Searching, yearning, heart resolute.

O’ercoming fear while failure rue,
Naught answer came but wonder knew.
For chasmic span the problem be,
In time and space dwell cruelty.
Rest in the Sov’reign, e’er I must;
Enraptured here, my Saviour trust.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Poetry (from the Latin poeta, a poet) is a form of literary art in which language is used for its aesthetic and evocative qualities in addition to, or in lieu of, its apparent meaning.” ~Wikipedia

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