God, it is your promise I depend on: A poem 

I feel the flush of impatience, at the dusk coming too soon 

My hope swings on a trapeze, hanging from the moon 

And a bitten apple reminds me, of Adam and Eve falling 

I think that all these many promises were Satan coming calling 

That I had always shut out motley treasures with disdain’s measure 

But, how long can I be a masochist, my spirit is in a twist? 

I have been a relentless stonemason, working with all your tools 

But would you deem that I should go, forever, dancing with wicked fools 

Why Job asked God if he forgot, when there seemed doom in the skies 

I have only a shaky scrawl to remind you, to help me if my courage dies 

For long, I’ve been a marsupial with a pocket full of principles 

And should I fail from weariness, would you iron out the crinkles? 

I always cast their promises in the trenches, my soul for you wrenches 

But must I ask now, you Supreme, do you want Eden in sin’s stenches? 

I fear the battleground is turning over, this lost blood is crying blue 

It is your promise that I depended on God, don’t leave me without a clue