each restless hour

the blaze of the noonday sun
scorched with its intense heat:
I cared little
as I gathered like pebbles
each fragment of yesteryear.

the waves gently lapped onto the rocks beneath
my dangling legs.
at first came mourning,
but then joy
and a hush expectancy
for the new year.

the words of Horatius Bonar
was my silent song,

“Yet peace, my heart; and hush, my tongue;
Be calm, my troubled breast;

Each restless hour is hastening on
The everlasting rest:

Thou knowest that the time thy God
Appoints for thee, is best.”

restless are the hours,
full of toil,
which will beat
like waves
upon the shore,
but soon the final wave will come –
that everlasting rest

which shall swallow up mortality
in eternity

then shall I be restless no more.

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