Wandering

Simply to this cross-
I am clinging for nothing else
sufices, the wind and the
water rise with deep power
and blur what lies ahead
so many faces I see
the sounds are many I hear
Father, they are apart from you.
Ring out
before my ears-  shake my
drum until it bursts, splinter
me with the cross that I may bear
its markings
may it never fall from
my shoulders- I will stumble,
yes. but a servant I am, a quitter You
made me not, until
Glory when I shall
collapse- breathless and prostrate
at Your feet
lead mine to seek Yours
our prints becoming one