Tugging at my stream of thought,
Pushing pulling tusseling,
Impotent as to stretch my reason,
Sideways into contoured rigour,
I so thought but slowly slipping,
Mental tracks align with time.

Internalising words of praise,
From a king of old,
A mighty man who chased,
The very heart of God I know,
And I will say to my Lord:
You are my Lord, I have no good apart from you.