let my thoughts not dwell on this present age,
or the words on my people, or the thoughts of complaint,
but may my mind find rest in fountains of peace
and with heavy contentment, may my eyes find sleep-

unrest settles around me
and fear begins compounding
but my head lies
beneath your loving eyes
and gives into being loved graciously

fear the plague of nostalgic apathy
groaning for things no longer seen
things left behind in forgotten seas
that creep there way to be present feelings-
bitter tasting bread, bitter place instead
digesting mold, sickness, and dread-
thankfulness, no more regret,
a pure sedative to pains of ingesting death.