A glimpse of tears,
an evening rain.
Weeping of this melody,
a melody of her last refrain.

"I had loved you,
as you would ever known.
I had loved you,
till last, thy everything shows."

The light discloses to dim;
as you were bridled—
in the walls of uncertainty,
fragile, inherently you'll be,
hearing voices of foolish lies,
in verge of suffering demise.

So take it to Jesus,
As he illumines your way,
thine in His heart shall be,
till that one fine day.

Hands that carries of such;
Alone, as the anguish sought
a cost high as the price,
though one cannot bear.
As you are tempted to profess
that God was never there.

Just take it to Jesus,
a trusted friend who stays,
thine in His heart shall be,
till that one fine day.

We seek in earthly views;
the infidels disbelieving cue,
A chronic chasm,
dividing the unions truth,
the doubtful ones blinded sight,
Caught between the unwise.

But take it to Jesus,
As doubts just freely fades,
thine in His heart shall be,
till that one fine day.

To think of end, may it be?
yet in Him a greater place—
beyond is to see.
A promise of God is eternity,
thine in His heart shall be,
till that finest day we meet

O youth, vulnerable youth,
Let not thy self be of dominion,
But be the land as thy flesh,
And the waters be thy blood;
An armor of truth and serenity,
Passing forth seed to seed,
Reaching billows, soaring as trees.

O moss, saccharine moss,
In morning glow till night has fall.
The earth is man's account;
With nations each accenting,
and a poet is made to sing.
Saint eve is folly, faded and dim;
Man is rest but a smile and a dream.

Dreary of a dark empty space,
The loneliness crowded,
Which somewhat I called—
"A Place Unwanted."
To them may it be madness:
A pretense of his suffering,
His mindful selfishness.
But not how I would label me.

To be covered in lunacy:
Lies coming from about,
Changing colors and theme,
Wading of goodness.
Their ways of hypocrisy.
I was a sea of countless woe,
To be brave but unsure.
Am I ever safe, if I never show?

The gaiety beyond avenue,
Through under glass I look.
The joy fits for most,
But not a dream to be oath.
Overtaking my inmost true,—
These things behind the sun.
What I should walk away from,
But it could never be done.