Chasm < Respite

How often do I scramble words
to try to find a key.
“Keep looking, and go further,”
my conscience says a plea.

I strive to answer what is lost,
or what could never be;
yet every time an answer comes,
I struggle to unsee.

What is flesh is fallible;
I oftentimes forget.
“I could never seek to know,”
Doubt sings as a quartet.

How often do I scramble thoughts
before I bow my head.
“Keep seeking and keep trusting,”
my Father is my bread.

Calamity and danger:
He knows and He allows.
Yet flesh can only wonder
why sparrows fall to clowns.

Glory doesn’t ask
for me to understand;
I only need to know
that I am in His hand.

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