Knowing Little About So Much

Knowing Little About So Much



Knowing little about so much is neither an excuse nor a crutch.
My soul is an undiscovered star, whose path is determined by God, as such.

It's not that I haven't tried to let it shine forth; Lord knows how I've tried.
I've pleaded, sacrificed, waited and often times I cried.

His will is prominent, of that is my desire.
How He hides my star, is amazingly like a hidden fire.

I cannot and will not disclose without His express direction,
So a frustrated, lonely soul waits that day of ultimate perfection.

I grapple with without words, the perfection of His time
Meek and lowly I declare - It is His will and not mine.

I know what He has told me yet only to satisfy my soul,
For further truth would, with my life, take its toll.

Blind yet I see and deaf though I hear,
His will, not mine, waits for the perfect year.

I will wait for Him, though most would find the long years unfair,
For that which I know, is more than others, yet not enough to declare.

Being both in the middle and outside the circle of life,
What I do know of the Greater Much causes a different kind of strife.

Much is many; this is so obviously true,
Yet without fullness of the Much, I would appear as a fool.

So silent words each made with golden thoughts and pen,
Are declared in this poem, of whom it is written, "Without End."

Truemale
(Copyrighted 2002)