Shreds: “Rocks”

Tangled fingers restless be,
Aware o’ their duty to haul ‘way
The rest from the thorn’s decree,
Ruthless thicket’s cruel foray.
From a palace of rocks it clasped
Him close, almost a love’s embrace,
To keep him from fall’n’, it grasped,
Like lemon drops on parchment placed.

Where is the study, now,
Now that thee feels the weights
Of hangin’ queries, as thou,
Upon the brink of fate?
Perchance thou lean’st to’rd the dusk
Of a harbor with words to trust,
With words of comfort’s sort,
Knowing God’s only fault.

Megaliths of eternal plight,
Chilled by the task to drag,
Unmoved by the thorns’ spite,
Cunning of the rose’s snag
That from its glass doth spy
And envies the sea below
Into which he wished to fly,
In foam, in mirth, in death’s flow.