All I want is for everything to work out for the best.
But everytime I try to make it so my mind arrests.
Awaiting the beacon: some magic direction to walk "this" or "that" -way,
Indeed- aware expectations such as these don't ever save the day.

Bent over like a broken tree fallen head first to the ground...
Believe in something long enough for faith to twist into doubt.
Halo of repression is my crown- I am bitter below its weight,
The heaviness, like lead, a burden smothering my fate.

So calming is the serenity of her golden face so bright,
Amidst my struggles I know I can cling to the warmth of her Love Light.
She is too young, oh so un-jaded, must not sour with my selfish misery.
Her eyes: twinkling and mystical fairies sing softly songs of God's generousity.