A cross-legged perch,
The seating position with a timer,
Counting down in fleshy clicks,
Time!!!
A foot falls half asleep.

Alas, farewell you trusty stead and friend,
How far we walked, how far we send,
Our merry little presence beyond,
Past stately trees and murky ponds,
To lands that bustle in the smoke filled air -
Oh, it stopped tingling.

In the downpour,
I'm sitting and waiting,
Contemplative,
Stages to stages,
And I rest in your places.

In the furious rain and the roaring metal,
In the blaring music,
And the subtle whisper of people,
You are still there Lord,
Unleashed from the temple.

In transcendent, unhurried purpose,
You walk and you wrestle,
With weak men and strong men,
For broken is the perfect vessel,
So that I may get a surplus of grace and tussle,

Tussle with truth,
Tussle with wisdom,
Tussle with those around me in love,
That they may know you too,
Maybe place a little stone in their shoe.